Green Lights
by ivan n'scent
Summary: Full-time artist, part-time hopeless romantic. Kagamine Len is an artist paid to draw an unwilling model, playing Cupid for two mismatched people. Well, he wants to find his own girl too, you know.(short chapters). Lenku.
1. Chapter 1

It is winter and the snow is falling. Alone, you warm yourself up.

It is winter and the snow is falling. Alone, you meet people as you cross roads.

It is winter and the snow is falling. Maybe you can ask someone you met as you walk to warm yourself up.

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"Stop," she said. This was the first word he heard from her. Yes, he liked how she sounded mad with that. It was _that_ sexy as she glared at him. Pale green eyes creasing as her brows furrowed - he couldn't stop beaming. She looked prettier now.

"Sorry," he apologized, taking a step back. He brought his hand out of the pocket of his coat-it was almost blue and numb-and stretched it out to her. "By the way, my name is Len."

"I'm not asking for your name," she said and turned her back. The girl kept her eyes on the road, eyes fixated on the blinking red and green lights.

He shrugged his shoulders and continued to smile. It was already nine in the evening and yet the streets were still busy. The life in the city had always been this way, so nothing's too surprising about that, anyway. If the stalls and outlets were closed before nine in the evening, something must be wrong. As he stood next to this girl at the pedestrian, he kept on whistling a random tune he knew from memory, and he was on the verge of flirting with her. She was pretty-or beautiful, minus that scowl and round spectacles-and she was his _very_ type. Not too tall and busty, quite conservative and...short-tempered. And she was dressed all-black. That was a _plus factor_. This _girl_ was turning him on.

When he decided to walk around this late to find a good place to dine, he ended up meeting a friend downtown. It was the redhead with unruly hair, Fukase, who invited him to eat in a place the redhead knew. Len didn't know that Fukase was meeting someone at the same time, so when they entered the restaurant the guys were sharing a table with a pretty girl with turquoise hair in black coat.

It turned out that the girl was Fukase's childhood friend, but Len refused to believe since the girl was rather cold towards the redhead. She was, in fact, colder than the season. Her green eyes seemed to drill holes at his face whenever she would look up to them, as if she had never seen a human's face in her entire life.

Her round spectacles sat almost at the tip of her nose, which reminded Len of his grandmother when she was still alive. But well, her glasses didn't hide how beautiful she was. And though she kept her face neutral, she didn't look old or _too_ mature. So when the dinner was over and he had to go home, he took the chance to talk to this girl. The universe was siding him, Len believed, because the girl was walking on the same direction with him. That was when he started whistling a random tune, in which she seemed not to care and he was good at it, until they reached the intersection.

Len had never seen her before, so he might as well try asking where she lives. She might be staying near his unit and if his assumption wouldn't fail him, that would be a good news. But before he could imagine things, he should know her name first. Fukase, for some reason, never mentioned her name the whole time they were together.

The sky was inky black and the air surrounding them was cold. Albeit he was standing here dressed in five layers, it was still too chilly for him to handle. The snow was not yet falling even if the Christmas is just around the corner, so at this rate he was expecting a _brown_ Christmas.

"So...what's your name, _miss_?" he broke the thick, frosty silence between them, but she never looked at him nor reacted to his voice, at least. Her eyes were on the road, waiting for the lights to turn green.

Len cleared his throat to catch her attention, but to no avail. She was still staring at the road. "It's cold, _brr,_ " he mumbled to , he wasn't faking that. He was really cold now, even if he had his thick coat on. Len wasn't feeling quite well these past days and living alone wouldn't help him so much. His broken heater was another issue. He rubbed his bare hands together and breathe into them, attempting to warm his cold palms. He could see his white breath every time he would exhale.

"Your unit's heater is broken, I suppose."

Len was too cold to smile now. His lips so dry, felt like it would crack. "Yeah, that's why I eat outdoors. Are you a psychic?"

She huffed. "Newsflash. I live two levels above you."

Len tried to smile with his dried lips - and _fuck,_ that hurt. "Oh, good news. I know we just met, but can I stay over the night?"

"Can't stop being cold, can't stop flirting..." she turned her head to look at him in the eyes. "You could have asked Fukase for that matter. He is _your_ friend."

Len feigned a look of being hurt. The trucks passed by them, bringing more cold wind that bit his face. "Have tried that before. His girl was staying with him right now. I couldn't bother their alone-times, you know."

"Your problem then, I wouldn't let a stranger step inside my flat. Maybe you can try asking me if we're friends." Yes, she was colder than the season. "But sadly, we aren't. So that's a clear _no._ "

The lights turned green and that was her cue. She took a step forward and left Len behind, not bothering to look back and wonder why the whistling stopped. Unbeknownst to her, he was grinning as he watched her cross the road, eyes following her hips with her every step.

"What won't I do to get in your pants, _miss_?" he chuckled and buried his palms in his pockets and scurried across the road, tailing the stoic girl with long turquoise hair.

Oh, yes. Everything has to start with _being friends._ But looking at this girl, Len can see an imaginary wall as tall and tough as the Great Wall of China. _Pretty girl with turquoise hair_ has a wall too hard to break. Well, Kagamine Len loves challenges, anyway.

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oh. _im too lazy to write a full length ff novel so yeah let us endure my shit posts together. review if that's your thing._

 _-ivan._


	2. Chapter 2

"Help me," Len ran his hand through his blond locks, gingerly nibbling on his lower lip as he put back his hand on his lap. He was talking to Fukase on phone since eight, and it was already ten in the freaking morning, yet the redhead still refused to answer Len's question. "Why is her name a _classified information,_ Fukase?"

When Len reached home yesterday, he learned that the girl lived two floors above his flat, that she was working as an art and music teacher, that she was single and she hated to mingle. Len tried asking her name yesterday as well while they walked to their building, and all he got was either a snort or an eternal silence. _Pretty girl_ claimed that Len was ten billion years too early to flirt with her.

So when he woke up the next day, he dialed Fukase's number to get some information and support from his friend, only to hear another ten-billion-years-shit kind of alibi.

"You ask her yourself, Len. She doesn't want me to tell anything about her to anyone. I'm sorry," Fukase sounded disappointed himself, like he was really sincere, and Len just rolled his eyes. This redhead was a good actor, too. Sometimes he could make lies sound true and vice versa.

"You, _fuck-ass._ I tried doing that, haven't I told you? If you won't tell me her name, I'm going to die a virgin." Len slumped down on his cold bed with a huff. What he said was true and untrue at the same time. First of all, he wouldn't die if he could not learn her name. Second of all, he was a virgin - that was true. He heard a groan from the other line, and he could practically see Fukase rolling his eyes. The redhead was accustomed to Len's _number one_ reason of living: to avoid his older brother's fate. And that was to be a bachelor (a virgin bachelor) for ever. It was Leon's - Len's older brother - choice though, to live the life free from any commitments such as marriage. He would spend the rest of his life taking care of cats or dogs.

"That woman is scary! Find other girls, Len! Apparently, she hates guys. You won't stand a chance on Miku! She's... _ah_! Gosh, no!"

If cuss words would be labeled _\- beep -_ , then all Len had heard was _\- beep -_ raised to the _nth_ power. The redhead just mentioned her name.

"Miku? Is that her name?" Len smiled to himself as he tossed away his blanket. Now, Fukase was helping him out. "Well, thank you very much my friend. If I finally start a family within a month, it's all thanks to you. I'll call you later." He dropped his phone and ran to his wardrobe to wear something appropriate for his work today. Well, his work was not that hard?

The blond ran out of his flat and downstairs. His long black coat fluttering down to his knees could trip him downstairs if he was too careless with his steps. But no, Kagamine Len was an expert in running for he was always late with his _every_ appointment. He put his bag on his back and dashed across the street like a stray cat. The gray sky above matched the cool breeze today. If he had no work to do, he would rather sleep and rot in his cold bed.

As he scurried along the busy downtown, he couldn't push _pretty girl -_ or Miku, out of his mind. They were living in the same building, but how come he never noticed her before? With that pretty face and cold demeanor, he could not ignore her. Just what kind of magic spell did she cast to conceal her presence?

Len arrived at the art studio fifteen minutes before the call time. With his brushes, pens, mixing plates, oil paints, acrylic paints, prang watercolors, color pastels, pencils, and all other things a painter needs (inspiration and empty wallet as well) stuffed randomly in his bag, he slumped down on the sofa breathlessly. The art studio was quiet and its whiteness, equally maddening. Though this place was _supposed_ to be arts-y, he hated it. It felt more like an asylum than an art studio.

The silence faded away when a faint thudding echoed from the hallway three yards from the sofa. Soon, a black-haired guy came out, hands kept in the pocket of his jeans, smiling warmly at the blond on the sofa. He was wearing a gray sweater whose neckline was kind of tattered on purpose, and his manner of walking was funny. At first his eyes widened upon seeing the blond, but then he ran to him like a penguin and slumped himself down on Len. The two laughed like childhood mates who hadn't seen each other in years.

"Man! Get up, your butt's freaking heavy!" Len pushed the other guy away, still laughing.

"Oh, Len. I know you like my butt so much. That's the reason why you can't find a girlfriend. You love my butt," the guy replied as he got up, pulling his hands out of his pocket to fix his hair disheveled from a little jogging. "Nice to see you again, anyway. It's been a year, _butthead._ Well, about this project I told you the other day, what do you think?"

Len to straighten the crease on his sweater, then he looked up to him. "Why, yes. That sounds cool. I'm just gonna paint a girl, _that's all._ No challenge, Rei."

Rei shook his head with wide grin plastered on his lips. "She isn't _just_ a girl. She's an unwilling model, to be honest. You have to paint her without her murdering either you or your canvas. This is a commissioned work from her _ex-_ boyfriend, so if they get back together, you'll be their ring bearer."

"Why, art reconnects burned bridges? What did the guy do?" Len grabbed his bag and put it on his back again, knowing that Rei would hand him the girl's address later. The black-haired friend only winked at him, his honey-colored eyes reflected some hints of twisted mirth.

"Third party, guy sleeping with some cheap woman, etc., etc. Deal with your business and I shall get your heater replaced. Now, _shoo._ " Rei handed him a yellow sticky note where a familiar address was written down. "Don't let the girl know you are working because of his _ex-_ boyfriend's request or you're dead."

"Fine, whatever." Len folded the paper and marched out of the maddening art studio. _Love_ , _hate_ and shit. Commissions were kind of bizarre lately. Not that it mattered much, after all this was Len's main source of income. The blond turned right to observe the skyline for a moment, a small smile adoring his pale lips. This should be a good day. He let out a sigh and walked on the opposite direction, hailing a cab that would bring him to Crescent Academy, wherever on earth is this school.

* * *

 **white Angel 246: tysm! glad to know you liked it. i hope you'll like the future updates as well.**

 _-ivan._


	3. Chapter 3

Rei sighed as he ran a hand to comb his dark bangs away from his eyes. The honey orbs looked like they were stressed (though this stressful thing had nothing to do with him), for their shade were darker than usual. Well, he was sitting outdoors with a friend, sharing the shade of some pine tree so that wasn't really surprising. It was the shadow of tree which made him look depressed.

"I bet it's just one of his million flings. It's _just_ an infatuation," the raven-haired said with exasperation as he rolled his eyes. "Len is always talking about a girl from time to time, and he always ends up _single._ "

Rei was answered by a sigh too, from the redhead sitting beside him. Fukase was staring at the small bottle of an energy drink he bought on his way to meeting Rei. His thick-framed glasses sat on his nose bridge, allowing him to read the tiny labels at the back of the bottle without burying his face on it. Whatever the contents of this beverage were, they promised to energize him.

Earlier today, Fukase received a call from Len asking about Miku. He already expected the blond to ask about this, and he knew he shouldn't say a thing to Len. Why, you ask? First of all, Len _is_ a flirt. He would be hitting on girls he found nubile. But Fukase's issue was _"Len is a friend"_. _Guys were supposed to support guys._ This, however, was contrary to his other friend. Miku was a good friend. Why would Fukase let Len toy her? The redhead knew the blond so much that he would not dare to blurt out a single information about Miku _for her welfare._ It was an agreement between Fukase and Miku after knowing the girl's situation, he should not let other people know anything about her.

Fukase let out a long sigh, his shoulders sagged as he did. "Yes, sure. Who would be _so_ in love at first sight? Len is just _weird._ Too hopeless," his russet eyes looked down on his knees this time, a fraction of his pale skin showed off from his ripped jeans. "He literally grabs any opportunity standing on his doorstep."

Rei did not say a word after him, so silence meant he agreed with the redhead. The raven-haired studio director leaned his back against the trunk of the tree and listened carefully to the comfortable noise around the people's park, enjoying silently the laughter of the children running and messing up with each other. The sound of drinks dropping from a vending machine and the airy noise of the inserted coins could be heard from a distance. A few steps from where Rei and Fukase were seating, there was a vending machine for coffee and cocoa drinks. Warm beverages were always in demand during cold seasons (or generally on cold mornings too).

The two watched the cars zooming past by them like ants running on a high speed. This city was so urbanized (maybe most cities were) that people grew hearts like they were machine parts. Lubricate if rusty, fix if it has to be. Cold like metal sheets and thinner than a piece of paper. People spent their lives working till sun down and forgot what were the things which needed _real_ attention.

Rei's gaze went up to stare at the gray sky, carefully studying the pile of white clouds behind a famous skyscraper. It seemed to him that the clouds were shy so they were hiding behind a proud tower. Funny, he was already making a story out of it. Well, why not? He was an artist. An artist's idea couldn't be contained in a box. He should look at the world differently because that was what it meant to make art for art's sake. Albeit his philosophy was kind of ironic (because he was accepting commissioned work for some of his artists - this wasn't aesthetic anymore) he would continue doing masterpieces without the influence of someone besides himself.

Kagene Rei wasn't a _natural._ He wasn't born with an innate talent in arts unlike Len and Leon. It was only after he met the Kagamine brothers when he realized that he should try it too (to hold a brush and paint on a canvas because it seemed fun), and before he knew it, he was already displaying his first work on the grand hall of his high school. He championed every art contests he joined and made his high school known for it. Now, he was Kagene Rei, the owner of _Golden Raven Art Studios._

Despite all of his achievements, Rei never felt the fulfilment. He won every first prizes, his arts were bought here and there, but he never felt like he had proven _enough._ He wanted to beat Len. Yes, they were friends, and yes, the blond introduced him to painting, but there was a silent voice inside the studio director he could not silence. Maybe it was what every student wanted to do, to challenge their mentors to know who had gotten better in time. Rei wouldn't admit it, but he was somewhat envious of Len. The blond was broke as anything after they graduated from the university (but his family wasn't, Len just hated relying on them too much), nevertheless he was happy. He was doing few big projects with fun, with a big smile painted on his face.

Back in their high school and college years, Len never joined any art contests. His brother (five years older than them), Leon, did and Len was expected to continue the legacy. However, Len was anything but a copy of his brother. He wouldn't do anything he wouldn't want to (such as joining art contests) so he was known because of his stubbornness. Still, Rei witnessed what Len was capable of - what his hands and imagination were capable of. Every work Len had made was a _magnum opus._

"You should advise him about his _stalking_ nonsense," Fukase suddenly spoke, interrupting the deep thoughts Rei was immersed to. "The girl was living in the same complex with Len, so watch over 'im. I don't want him to rape Miku."

"Like he would," Rei smiled and patted the redhead's shoulder. "He couldn't even touch himself, believe me. We're sharing the same flat in college." His shoulders shook as he chuckled. Len's virginity was a joke to him and their other friends, but it was the funny thing about the blond. He was so desperate in finding the right girl whatsoever his outlook in life was. If Rei would advise Len, he would probably ask him to get his heater fixed first before flirting with girls. Oh no...that reminded him, he would buy a replacement for Len's heater.

"I have to go now, Fukase. Need to buy a new heater for Len," Rei rose, brushing off the dust from the back of his pants. "I'm too lazy to call for someone to fix it. Heck, it's already the fourth time that his heater was down."

"Oh, okay. See you around," Fukase stood too, tossing the empty bottle to the nearest trash bjn. "Just...tell him to stop scaring girls. Man, I thought Len was really funny until he began hitting on my friend."

Rei chuckled once more, wincing. Yes, Len was a funny guy with no money. He was just a bundle of nerves. With that, Rei and Fukase did some _bro-fist_ thing and went in different ways.

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 **white Angel 246: hm, yeah. but well, let's just assume that len's an innocent being here. oooo**

 **allechant: yeah, obsessed. once in a while my short-time crushes are like this (but 'twas kind of creepy). lol and yeah rei's butt...**

 **tigernius: tysm! glad to know that you're liking this so far. fast paced? hm, then let me slow it down (i dont know how but i'll try. i hope this update** _ **slows**_ **down the pace of this story).**

 **Thanks for reviewing/reading!**

* * *

 _review if that's your thing. :)_

 _-ivan._


	4. Chapter 4

A whole hour and a half later, the blond stepped out of the cab with his bare hands kept in his deep pockets. Looking around with his blue eyes half-opened, he gulped. He stood there, jaw dropping, admiring the quiet little town he never had seen before. It was colder in here, ten degrees lower from the city - and nicer and quieter and prettier. However, this place's temperature seriously dropped _too_ low that he actually expected to snow in this place on the Christmas day if it would continue to go down.

Len shivered when the wind blew, and he fumbled reaching up to tug his turtleneck sweater higher until it hid his chin and dry lips. He had glanced at his hand, it was whiter than usual - bloodless as though it never had been alive. Yes, he was not fond of winter season that much since living with a broken heater left enough memories for him.

It was already half past one in the afternoon, and the sun was glaring with no intensity at him. The cobblestones pavement glistened against the faint sunlight threatened to be hindered by the huge gray clouds piling up from the east. Len noticed that the wind, though blowing softly, was rather incessant. He found it _odd,_ for normally a windy weather wasn't a thing of this city. Ignoring the somewhat frosty air - which was utterly impossible to ignore when his hands were bare - he continued to walk down this path, clueless wherever it may lead him to.

It was like a ghost town inhabited by a winter spirit. It was too silent but he preferred such silence over the hustle and bustle of a stressful city life. He didn't mind the vast moor stretching from his left, so long as the houses on the other side were occupied by humans. The road - which seemed to bring him nowhere - was made of cobblestones and that made such town appealing. Well, admittedly he kind of hated going into this place unknown to him. He cursed Rei in his mind twice every minute when the ride to this place took him half an hour. Who would have thought that there was a town this far from the downtown, anyway? Nevertheless he thought that this place was pretty pleasant, aesthetic and worth his _'canvas'_.

Len halted and looked back, checking whether a local was somewhere within the fifty-meter radius, only to see the old rusty victorian lampposts standing still on their places. The wind whizzed again, tousling his golden fringe and biting his face. The tips of his untied hair tickled his nose and the side of his face, and albeit he wanted to swat them away, he wouldn't. Len didn't want to bring out his hands from his pockets to pull his hair in a tie. He was way too cold.

The blond artist sighed and resumed his walk, hoping to meet at least _one_ local who might bring him to the _mysterious girlfriend_ of the _asshole boyfriend_. The cluster of gray clouds, slowly but surely, began blocking the sun. At least one-fourth of the sun was now covered, making few light rays to peek from the clouds. Straight ahead of this road, Len saw the horizon. _'Weird, weird town. Rei's too stupid to ask me out for this commission,'_ thought Len as he huffed.

When he first saw the addrress, the blond artist thought that this place was near Rin's house. Kagamine Rin was his cousin, ten years younger than him (that would make the girl sixteen), who lived near the highlands. Len never thought that the address Rei handed him was _on_ the highlands. The blond had not set foot on this place ever since his mother carried him in her womb. Nonetheless he liked challenges so this wasn't a big deal at all. But all of his inconveniences aside, he deemed this place beautiful and serene. It was not populous and polluted like the city square, and there were no skyscrapers to block the sky. This was a good place to make art.

Len saw the skyline ahead of him as though it was some artist's creation. The thick gray clouds were warped in a thin line, dark shades of grayness drew an unintentional contour. It only meant one thing, that was for sure...this was a town located on a slope. After a few more listless steps, Len stood atop the steep cobblestoned streets sloping down the hillside. Cable wires stretched parallel with tram rails; stores painted in pastel colors stood above the waterfront. There was a tiny river flowing beneath the small arching bridge, rustling low murmurs as the water ran. It was an old medieval town situated far from the heart of modern city life, and Len realized how fool he was for missing out this little paradise.

Instinctively he ran down the sloping street, letting the wintry air to numb his face. There were few people walking across the alleyways, so few that if he missed them he would never find the _'model'_ he was asked to draw. One of them must know who on earth was this person, wherever the Crescent Acadame was. As he scurried along the street, the blond could clearly see the tiled roofs of the houses and their smoking chimneys. Most of the roofs were fading red, sickly pale against the gray skies.

Kagamine Len had been long fascinated with landscapes reeking of antiquity. The places that could make him feel as though he had synesthesia - like smelling its oldness and hearing its beauty and all other sorts of overlapping senses - inspired Len to make an art more than what his eyes could see. His arts were more than imitations of beauty and reality. His hands could paint thousands of words a picture was said to convey and illustrate feelings which were never said. The canvas he stained with colors of various shades could capture hearts, he was told once. But whoever said such thing to him, he couldn't recall anymore, for it was a compliment never told to him in person. His brush and paint and talent were for the production beauty beyond what eyes could perceive, and it was proven long ago when he anonymously drew a girl for someone, to help him win her heart.

He, who liked baroque architecture that much, worked up his legs as he continued to run down hill. The cold air began to fill up his lungs and dry his throat, but he was too busy admiring the little town to shut close his gaping mouth. The wrought-iron balconies studded with plantboxes all came to view, semi-dead branches seemed to wave him _hello._ The rustling water grew louder as Len stood on the bridge, and everything seemed nearer and more beautiful up close. He panted as he turned around once more to stare at the slope he went running down. It was steep and, well, uphill and the houses were standing next to each other. It reminded him of a typical Italian alleyway. And right that moment, he haf forgotten how dead this place seemed to him when he first stepped out of the cab. It was still quiet and no souls were out, but this town was certainly beautiful.

"I want to paint this town," he murmured to himself, biting his lower lip afterwards. "Yeah, I'll surely go back in here once I'm done with the commissioned work." The blond continued to walk now, though in reality he was really dawdling. Amid his contemplative tour, a sudden vibration in his jeans' pocket made him jump.

Rei was calling. Len's lips curved into a scowl as he stared at the screen, still reluctant whether he would answer the call or not. Well, he had to since Rei was paying him here...and the raven- _butthead_ promised to fix the heater. Fair enough.

"Hey," Len went forward, still searching for a single soul he could bother. "Man, you never told me that this place exists _in_ our city. I could have spent my whole life here!" - "Yeah, I won't paint this town. _Yet._ I'm on my way to the Academy. On earth is that? Alright, thanks." - "And my heater! Get it done! You promised to pay for it, you little _buttshit_. Get it done!"

Len sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. He put his phone back in his pockets, and after a split-second or so, a man went out of a pastry shop. Without any second thoughts, the blond set forth to another jog, screaming to get the attention of the young man.

"Sir, excuse me," Len fell into steps next to the said man whose hair was dark as Rei's. When the man glanced at him, the blond smiled and continued. "I'm looking for Crescent Academy. This is the first time I've been into this place and I can't find my way there."

Had Len tried searching for the academy instead of pondering as he walked, he could have made his _half-true_ declaration truthful. He actually spent his time gawking and thinking (and cursing Rei).

The man smiled at him as he pushed his spectacles up. "Well, yes. In fact, I work there. What's your business? We can ride the tram - but it won't be here after a few more minutes. You wouldn't mind waiting?"

"Oh, I don't. Thank you so much," Len smiled. "I'm here for a commissioned work. Anyway, you got a pretty place here,"

"I see. Photography? You must have seen this town from published travelogues."

The two of them stood alongside the railways, calmly waiting for the tram.

Len shrugged. "No. I'm an artist. Need to paint someone,"

"That's romantic."

"Probably," Len sighed. The ground underneath his feet somewhat trembled - or was it the railways? - and an old tram appeared from the skyline. He bet it had wooden benches inside, it's kind of vintage. "By the way, what's your name, sir?"

"Hiyama Kiyoteru. I'm an English teacher in Crescent Academy," he smiled.

Len's _really_ lucky today. He pulled out a folded note from his coat's pocket and handed it to the man. "I'm afraid I'm asking too much, but do you happen to know this person?"

Kiyoteru took the note and smiled.

* * *

Half an hour later, Len was yelling on phone. He was asking who the heck was the boyfriend and if he was a homo. The blond artist had nothing agaisnt the minority, of course. But well, he was kind of uncomfortable with a bizarre theme. When the blond arrived in his destination, he quickly went to find the person Rei tasked him to draw. _M. Hatsune_ of Music Department. What he saw was kind of pleasant, for the person had teal hair and it reminded him of Miku.

"Rei! Is this _'M. Hatsune' - Mikuo_? Just what kind of relationship I am trying to mend!?"

"Man, calm your horses. That's _her_ brother. So you don't really know who's your subject, huh?"

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 **white Angel 246: we'll see her** _ **point of view**_ **soon. i want to deepen len's character first before showing miku. yaaaay. sorry for making you wait, lol. i want to stick with my plan.**

 **allechant: cries. what a challenge. i'll do my best but i won't show it soon. lol.**

 **tigernius: i meant the Golden Raven thing, lol. oh thanks! i'm not confident of my** _ **descriptions,**_ **believe me so it would take me a couple of drafts before i can make a full description of his creative process.**

 **tysm for reviewing!**

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 _as usual, review if that's your thing. i'm sorry because this update sounds rushed...well, i'm so tempted to write this chapter longer but i have to cut it short because this isn't a full length ff thing. im keeping the chapters short, more than 1k words but less than 2k. tysm!_

 _-ivan._


	5. Chapter 5

The blond sighed as he dug the pockets of his coat to find the crumpled note from Rei. He unfolded it, the black ink drawing the letters of the girl's name - it stressed the shit out of Len. He had been searching for her all day - well, he was just waiting for her to come around - and his lack of patience didn't help. If he wasn't paid to paint the girl, he would spend his time painting the town instead. As he sat on the ground, his back leaning against the red bricks, his mind flashed the image of the town from the topmost street. Len sighed, contented with the aesthetic _feels_ he was getting by just imagining the place. His eyes glanced back at his white palms and concluded that, yes, he was itching to paint the town than to paint the girl.

"It is cold out here. Perhaps you want to stay inside the faculty, sir?" the teal haired music teacher asked the blond, but Len only winced in response. "The person you are waiting for won't come soon. If you don't want to stay inside the faculty room, you might as well find a store where you can find a good, warm coffee. Obviously, I can't offer you one. We lack a kettle."

Len rose from the ground grunting a little, and turned around to face the guy named Mikuo. "Can't you just tell me her name, at least? I mean, you said it yourself, you're the brother. Why can't I have her name?"

Mikuo smiled at him with uncertainty as he pushed the glass door open. He stood at full height before Len, and answered: "I am certain that an artist, such as you, came to this place out of a request. Is it from her old lover? That man hasn't learned any lessons, therefore. My sister wishes to see no traces of him - tell him that."

In his reply, Len found no answer. Why was he so in tact as he spoke? Was the girl's name a potion that could make any man fall in love? Or perhaps it was cursed or something. Was this Mikuo guy a _potterhead_ and was just trying to establish a _Harry Potter_ vibe? Just who was this girl? She-who-must-not-be-named?

The blond frowned upon hearing such listless reply, and he swore that if he got another answer unrelated to his question, he would leave the academy...for today. "Fine," Len sighed with his boredom evident. Mikuo just confirmed that he was looking for the right person. This teal-head said the whole situation where Len was to play cupid. Mysterious Girlfriend didn't want to see Cheater Boyfriend anymore. Of course, their relationship wasn't Len's concern. He needed to get straight to business. "Why can't I know her name?" Len reiterated, his cold eyes landing on the teal-head standing before him. The blond watched Mikuo as he sagged his shoulders, a sigh parting his lips, and turned around to leave the artist's question unanswered.

It was insulting, no question with that, but Len couldn't protest as the glass door fell back and the brother of the mysterious girlfriend went inside the faculty room. He pushed the thought about his job away, and his eyes watched the teal haired teacher talk to his colleagues. Len wanted to ask whether this guy knew the Miku-girl he met last night, because they resemble each other. Well, it was because of the teal hair actually, but... _Len sneered._ It couldn't be the snobbish stunner, right?

The blond shrugged and decided to find a good shop where he could spend his day. He might as well try waiting for another couple of hours, hoping that God would lead him to this girl. Patience, that was what he needed right now. And to search for one, Len went out of the school premises and wandered around the town.

Len pulled his muffler close to him, tugging it up underneath his nose. He could feel his own warm breath against the scarf as he continued to walk across the stalls on the waterfront. His bare hands lost their senses now - who would have thought that this place's temperature drops really quick - so he tried keeping them warm in his pockets. He, who disliked wearing mittens, was now suffering because of the cold weather - shivering amid a somewhat ghost town.

Grumbling curses to himself, Len blamed the weather for giving such cold air. Albeit the city where he lived was no exception of the coldness, it was certainly not _this_ cold there. People packed streets and alleyways round the clock. Skyscrapers seemed to block the cold winds from freezing the town. However, winds still do freeze Len, even with skyscrapers. (They were not heaters, anyway.) The air, not as clean as it was in this little town, made an imaginary greehouse effect for Len. If coldness of the city where he lived was to be compared to the coldness of this little town, the city was no way colder than this place.

Accompanying the coldness of this little town, Len wished that the people who stayed here were no like the weather. This tiny dwelling of vintage atmosphere called to have warm residents with smoking hot drinks to warm up his entire being. So when he saw a small cozy coffee shop built silently alongside the waterfront, the blond artist dashed inside without second thoughts.

The warm air of the shop welcomed Len upon pushing the door open. Orange lights made the brown tables glossy as though they were newly polished. It was comfortable inside, he decided. Len kept on looking around as he aimlessly walked to a seat, until his eyes stopped from wandering. The fancy monochrome murals caught his sight. It was the austere illustration of a woman which caught the artist's eyes, knowing that such kind of sketch was awfully familiar.

His bag dropped on a cushion, forgotten. His feet, as though moving on their own accord, brought him right in front the mural. The way how the lines formed the body frame, Len knew it very well. There could be only one lady who posed this way, with velvet curtains draping her frame like a cape. The artist gaped at the mural, unsure how he was supposed to react, and before he could even think how to, a man called his attention.

Or well, at the very least, the man did not intend to call his attention at all.

"Good morning, ma'am. You're awfully late today," such greeting was certainly not for Len. The blond turned around to look over the register and saw a young blond with rich curly hair, leaning towards the counter. His black apron tied around his waist stood against his white shirt. It didn't help that he was extremely fair, too. He was white as death. Perhaps such complexion was ordinary to Caucasians. Len narrowed his eyes to him, quite fascinated with the man's eerie manner of talking. He was an Englishman, Len supposed. Or maybe an Austrian? Who knows. "I will ask for your regular drink. Just wait for a moment."

He was a flirt, Len thought as he walked over to the counter. A woman with long black hair was sitting on one of the chairs, face tilted up to the menu. Len whipped his head to the same direction, and his initial reaction was to scowl because everything was freaking expensive to purchase.

"Man," Len mumbled. "If Rei is with me, there's no drink I can't buy."

The blond with curly hair came back smiling at the girl. "Here, Miss Mew. You can wait on your table. I'll call your number if Al's done brewing your beer."

"Beer? Isn't this a coffee shop?" Well, it was supposed to be a "self-reflect" type of question, had not Len spoken it aloud.

The two people in the store gave him a weird, judging look. It was the curly blond who first spoke: "We serve various types of drinks, sir. We usually don't sell booze in broad daylight, but she's a regular. I can't see why not. You're new in this town, I presume?"

Len's gaze flicked on the small shiny strip on the guy's chest pocket, where the name _Oliver_ was carved. "I am. You might want to help me buy a drink, Oliver."

"Willingly," Oliver tipped his imaginary hat to Len and turned around to see the menu. "For a starter like you, I might give you this coffee. You fond of black?"

"Sometimes," Len frowned. Again, it was too expensive - that drink Oliver was pointing out. "You might suggest something... _economical._ "

He earned a laugh from Oliver. Why did his laughter sound so British as well? Like it was slow and from chest. Weird. It was as though he was mocking Len.

"Yes, of course, sir. You haven't brought your own mittens. Perhaps you do not own one. All right, I shall pick the cheapest. A hot chocolate drink. That's the drink with the lowest price I can offer. Add some pennies for additional toppings."

True enough. Len shrugged and gestured him to bring that drink. Satisfied, Oliver's grin widened as he walked away from the register. The artist took off his coat so he could enjoy the warm air in the shop. His dead white palms were now regaining colors, and he too, should stop shivering a little later. He glanced over his shoulder and saw where he left his bag. On the opposite wing of the shop, the black haired woman was sitting in silence and solitude. Well, in a cold place like this, everyone wasn't warm welcoming.

His phone rang in all of a sudden. Len quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket and read a message from Rei. Couldn't stop to make gross faces, Len groaned. Rei was asking him to stay in this town until sun down. 'Just what the frog,' Len rolled his eyes and slid his phone back in his pocket. Did Rei know this M. Hatsune's schedule? And if she was _really_ a teacher, she was freaking late for her class.

"Why the smug face, sir?" Oliver came back with a small card with him. A large number _02_ was printed on the paper. "Girlfriend asks you home?"

Len smirked at him. This kid was a buffoon. "Surely you jest! I don't have one," Len leaned on his palm, suddenly thinking of the snobbish belle he met last night. Her teal hair and piercing cold green eyes... "Well, one of these days I might get one."

Oliver smiled approvingly at Len, he even gave his customer a pat on his shoulder as if he was proud of such news. "Looks like a precious prize this girl was. How long have you been dating her, sir?"

Len's smile stretched wider. "Haven't started at all. Just met her last night," eyes creasing, he laughed. Len was ever faithful to his intuition that Miku would like him, too. Soon enough. "I will surely ask for your service if ever we are to marry."

Perhaps Len was just too imaginative.

Oliver's shoulder shook as he gave Len's shoulder a squeeze. "Marry? She's not even your girlfriend, sir. You're imagining things way too hard. Are you an artist, to be that imaginative? Or are you a hopeless romantic?"

"Hey," Len snapped. "I'm an artist. Well, that reminds me. Who painted this?" He nodded his head toward the mural he was staring at a while ago. Oliver smiled, lips pulled thin together.

"No name."

Len cocked a brow.

"Oh, I meant it as a pun. You know 'No Face' from _Spirited Away_?" Oliver laughed on his own. "Kidding aside. She has no name, so..."

The blond artist made a disgusted grunt. Why was everyone too secretive of his or her name!


	6. Chapter 6

"Done already? Great! Thank you so much for your hardwork, sir. Here's the payment," Rei put some cash on the man's hand, and as soon as the guy received the money, he left the flat.

The door closed softly as the man exited the room. Rei walked towards the newly installed heater he got from Len's brother, Leon, who was the kindest person alive to donate for the broke blond. Well, knowing it was Len, none of their friends would give him a heater. Kagamine was an affluent family, richer than Rei and Fukase's parents combined. No one could decipher why Len was living as poor as a rat after graduating, anyway.

The raven haired man turned the heater on. It was truly freezing in Len's room without a heater, even if all windows were closed and the drapes were laid down. What confinement could escape winter, by the way? Rei could only wonder how the blond managed to sleep in this room for who knows how long, without anything warming him up. As a matter of fact, his bed sheets were cold, too. Rei grimaced at the thought that Len was gritting his teeth and shivering all night and day. The blond could always go back to his parents or ask help from his successful brother, instead of searching for luck in wrong places. Well, if it were Rei, that was what to do - ask help. Asking for assistance didn't sound so wrong.

He heaved a sigh and decided to explore Len's room of a mess. The small kitchen and living room could not be distinguished anymore, for both of the places were equally nasty. Empty mayonnaise bottles and brushes scattered everywhere. A4 papers were stuck on the wall, each was tainted with watercolors. The coffee table was stuffed by half-opened notebooks, ink drew lines across the pages. Rei recognized a sketch of him in one of the pages - it was him in cross-hatching. His facial expressions were drawn well, as expected from Len. Rei smiled. Sketches like this one were done in lightning speed, so long as it was Len who would draw.

Rei walked over to the table and picked up the black sketchbook. If there was something amusing about the blond (besides his drawing talent, of course), it was his photographic memory. It would only take one glance for Len to remember how an object looks like, and he could instantly transfer the image in his canvas. The raven haired artist giggled when he saw a drawing of an old street sweeper, his hand reached to cover his mouth. It reminded Rei of their project back in the university, when their professor asked them to draw an old man as a model. Len would always ditch the class whenever they were to draw a model. Nevertheless, that didn't pull Len's grade down. Rei remembered how Len could manage to draw a model by just peeking at the door for a minute. Then he would leave. Kagamine Len wouldn't show up until it was time for dismissal, to pass his work.

Rei was under the impression that Len hated to see half-naked or nude models at all. He heard that Leon was the same, always ditching the similar kind of activity. And why they were doing it? It was a riddle only Kagamine brothers could answer. It might be because the brothers hated to draw female body. (Who knows?) Rei turned the pages of the sketchbook and continued to look at Len's drawings. There were random things drawn, still objects Len had in his place: the jars retracting the sunlight, the chipmunk sitting on his window, the fallen dead leaf on his table, his lamp in the evening, and the His hand froze when he saw an illustration Rei didn't expect Len to draw.

A portrait of a woman.

She was pretty with that distant look on her face. Her narrowed eyes were glaring to whosoever looks at the drawing, as though she was not glad being noticed. The lips pursed in a thin line, an eye brow raised due to skepticism - she was an ice queen. Or at least Rei guessed she was. Rei chuckled to himself, quite unsure what to feel with regard to this little discovery. You see, Len always refused to draw a female model. It wasn't anything special, anyway. However, seeing a rough sketch of a female entity in Len's sketchbook might explain why the blond appeared cool with the commissioned art. Moreover, this girl totally fit Len's type.

Rei quickly dropped the sketchbook from Len's coffee table _a la_ landfill. His legs brought him to the door and yanked it open. It was time to leave Len's flat and congratulate that numskull. The raven guy was sure that Len was _inspired._ Inspiration was a crucial sine qua non to make a meaningful art - that was the basic. "Always begin with end in mind," Rei could hear Leon and Len's voice in his head. That was how they began influencing him the raven not to do arts. _To find the meaning, the purpose, why make art._ Holding his phone on his right hand, he made sure to lock Len's door before scampering towards the elevator. As if the whole thing was plotted by someone omniscient, when the elevator door parted, there was a girl with long teal hair inside. A canvas was leaning to her right leg, and her arms carrying other fancy things (which Rei assumed as gifts from her boyfriend?). She didn't seem to have a good morning with that scowl adorning her pretty small face. Offering a polite smile, Rei stepped inside.

It was fated meeting, wasn't it? Rei knew the girl, more than she knew him. He bet the girl didn't know he was existing. That teal hair, that tiny pointed nose, those rosy cheeks - Rei saw all of them before...in a photograph. Well, of course she wasn't making a sour expression in that photo. She looked like a goddess (Rei meant to exaggerate it, yes), only if she would smile. In fact, Rei still had that photo in his phone. His client sent it to him for an art commission...where he assigned Len.

The door closed gently. Rei smiled to himself as he glanced at her. She had a hand massaging her head albeit it didn't relax her at all. Her brows were still knitted upwards. His honey orbs looked downward, noticing the canvas leaning to her. He could see a little of its color since it was turned away. Clearing his throat, he tried talking to her.

"Uhm, excuse me. Is this...a painting?"

She turned to him and nodded. Her eyes were cold and austere. Nevertheless, Rei believed she wasn't heartless. A kind smile could break _that_ facade.

"I see," Rei chuckled. "Can I look at it? I love paintings, you have no idea how much I adore them."

She lightly pushed the canvas with her leg until it leaned to him. "Yeah. As a matter of fact, I have no idea who are you either. You can have it all to yourself," she shrugged. The door opened, leading them to lobby of the apartment complex. She stepped forward, about to go, but she stopped midway realizing the weight on her arms. "What about these ugly random things? You fond of them? I ought to dispose these nonsensical objects _\- that painting included_ , but you saved that one."

Rei forced a smile. She was a cold hearted monster, he concluded. He hadn't met someone who could this be unfriendly to strangers, but then again, people were acting all the same. He was just a popular artist to those who knew him, so he wasn't seeing all of humanity at all. His point? He couldn't please and charm _all_ people.

"No," was his quick reply. "I like artworks not...those." He was clueless how to regard the gifts she had in her arms, and they were obviously personal. What would he do to those scrap items? She turned around and walk away, and he followed her out of the elevator while carrying the painting with him. "Hey, miss! Where to, anyway? I can offer you a ride."

"I can commute. Leave me alone."

That was a smooth, blunt rejection. Rei suppressed a laughter and watched her as she exited the lobby. It was about time when he looked at the canvas, finally. His eyes almost fell out of their sockets after looking at the art. Why not? It was one of the greatest work he saw back in college days. He looked back at the lady once more, and Rei noticed her grace as she moved away. Who was this girl and why did she have this painting? However, before he could ask, her form was slowly swallowed by the blinding light of the high noon sun, and he knew...he just knew...Len should wait.

Soon enough, his finger tapped _'send'._

 _Stay in that town until sunset. She'd come._


	7. Chapter 7

A frown adorned her lips perfectly. Her distant green eyes narrowed as she read the text displayed on her screen, whilst _Panic! At the Disco_ was blasting on her earphones. The most stupid words were displayed on her phone's screen, a text message from a contact she already deleted.

 _'I love you. Please, hear me out. We need to talk.'_

As though it was a reflex action (such as jerking away when touching a hot object) she hissed and rolled her eyes. It was pointless to read messages containing similar declarations of love, when all of these nonsense were lies. They were nothing but sugarcoated lies that would rot in time. She had no time listening to an apology and explanation when the damage had been done. Seriously, humans fucked up really bad. They were sorry after doing something worst, and they would be down on their knees to fix something they should haven't broken. If people truly value their bonds with other people, how could they afford to do things that would ruin relationships? Maybe, they didn't _value_ relationships at all. Maybe, all of these were just pretty, flashy lies. Maybe, she was just too blind to overlook all of this deception.

Thinking about how _he_ made a fool of her agitated her enough. Her palms clenched to a fist against her lap, and she knew she would not be fine unless she'd dismiss this thought. Was it even possible to push her ex-boyfriend out of her mind? No, she didn't love him anymore. She wasn't reminiscing all the times they had with each other. What she couldn't accept though, was the fact that she was betrayed. What he did was truly nasty and unfair, and that made it harder to forget. If their relationship was a game, she was the winner. Cheaters were always disqualified when discovered, anyway. But why, why did it seem like she was the bitter one? She was bitter, probably, but she wasn't in love anymore.

And she would never fall in love again.

 _Love._ Funny enough, she had been into it before. However after a certain, unforgivable happenstance... _love_ , it was an estranged thing that happened to her from the year dot.

 _"If you love me, let me go. These words are knives that often leave scars..."_ she mumbled to herself, leaning her head against the cab's window. Listening to songs could fix her heart already. No need to hear apologies from the people who hurt her. A little rationalization would bring back her normal self - and by normal, she meant that person she used to be. The one who was _enough_ for _herself._ The one who would not fall in love with an asshole like Kaito Shion.

The moor stretched like a vast lifeless plain, freezing amid the _snow_ - _less_ winter season. She smirked, flipping her teal hair back. It was a habit of her, to flip her hair, whenever she would feel triumphant and unnecessarily resentful. She continued to watch the view she had been seeing ever since she worked in Crescent Academy. No matter how many times she had seen all solitary sceneries in highlands, they weren't tedious. As a matter of fact, this lifeless moor was more lively than her. The heathers scattered across the moor, and she wondered if ever there was someone who thinks the same...that this dead plains were livelier than life itself.

It was half an hour past one in the afternoon when she arrived at that town. Miku Hatsune was aware that she was awfully late for her class, and probably her brother was preparing to nag at her. She missed two of her music class this morning, and she had to meet another two art classes this afternoon. Her students might be worried now, for she rarely ditch her teaching responsibilities. Music and art were taught passionately by her, as she loved it more than she loved people who weren't related to her by blood.

The town looked as desolated as ever, for the streets remained empty...as usual. She was acquainted with this cold place ever since. When she grew accustomed to it, she found it welcoming. The empty streets felt home. Miku smiled and began to walk down the slope.

In all of a sudden, she looked on her phone to check for new messages. Her brother, Mikuo Hatsune (who was a teacher in the academe as well), had sent her several texts inquiring where she had been this morning. She also got a few messages from her students in the music class, asking if they could consult her for the upcoming Christmas presentation. A droll expression found her lips by just thinking how to explain her absence earlier this day.

"Oversleeping sounds plausible," she mumbled to herself, placing a finger on her chin. "But teachers aren't that lazy to forget they have classes tomorrow." Miku let out a sigh and continued to walk. She busied herself this morning to get rid of all presents Kaito had given her. She was glad that someone took the painting, because she would really feel bad if it'd go to waste. Had it been someone else's present, she wouldn't throw it away. Anyway, Mikuo wouldn't be mad if he heard this, however her students didn't have to know things as personal as such. Miku didn't want them to know adulthood as twisted as she did.

Miku continued to ponder as she walked down the cobbled streets, whispering thoughts to herself. Gone were the foliage that covered the streets with a cool shade since autumn took all green away. They were like bony fingers stretched across the gray sky (and she thought it was sunny here, because it was sunny in the city earlier. Well, that's weather for you). As her green eyes looked up to stare at the forlorn sky, she heard her stomach grumble, and thus she was reminded that she forgot to eat her breakfast.

"I might go to Oliver's shop and have something to warm my stomach," she winced and turned to a street. "He would give me a nice pastry for sure." Gladly, Miku whistled as she skipped along the empty streets.

The cold breeze blew on her face. Miku kept her hands inside the pockets of her white coat and continued to move along. She had two hours left before her class would start, so why not take advantage of her time? Moreover, doing things by herself augmented her self-love. That was her fault anyway, to give so much and forget to save for herself.


	8. Chapter 8

"Annoying," she muttered, finishing off her slice of cake. Miku was in the mood to eat something sweet since her day began in a sour manner. Whenever Kaito would try talking to her, all nice things were deemed murky by her. Hearing his voice and seeing his face were more than enough to wipe off the smile she had.

Unfortunately, though, Kaito was not the only one who could do _that_ \- to annoy her, that is. It was undeniable that she had the _looks_ , albeit her beauty wasn't anything _too_ eye-catching, and sometimes this could put her into trouble. Guys kept on asking her name and asking her out, even if she would explain that she was already taken. However, even though she was single right now, she had no intention dating someone soon. Or ever.

Miku pushed her spectacles back to her nose bridge as she lifted her face from the now empty plate. She did her best to maintain that straight-face as much as possible, to make it less obvious that she _didn't_ like whatever was happening inside this shop.

Oliver was conversing with the familiar blond five seats away from her. They were talking about the recent international news, assassination of this ambassador and whatnot. The young server was listening intently to the other guy who, on the other hand, was whispering his theories about the international affairs. Maybe Russia and China would team up to bring down the USA, mumbled Len. His theory had nothing to do with the assassinated ambassador, anyway. Watching these two weirdos vexed her so much, not to mention that the familiar blond ruined her meall.

* * *

"Hey, there!" Len called her attention the moment she pushed her way inside the store. Miku was taken aback when she looked at his direction. This town was some place she didn't expect to meet this... _flirt._ "I know 'twas you! Hi, Miku!"

And that pushed the button. How did he know her name? So she asked him coldly, and he answered warmly. _"Why, my heart knows the name of my soulmate."_ She wanted to puke, hearing a pathetic pick-up line from a retarded like him. Oliver had a laughing fit as well, perhaps not expecting such corny remark.

"Aa, soulmate, you say? Go die and rot for all I care. We just met last night," Miku chose to sit several stools away from him, just to show that she wasn't interested to talk to him at all. "Don't talk to me, stalker. You're creepy."

"I'm not stalking you, believe me. I just know your name. It's written in the stars," Len said as though he was reciting a line from a romantic play. "Don't you hear it? Don't you feel it? Our hearts are beating at the same rhythm -"

"Say another word or I'll call the police, you creep."

Len flashed a toothsome grin. If Miku was not this salty with her love life, she would be moved by that smile. He was attractive, physically, but she was _not_ interested to date anyone at all. As a matter of fact, he wasn't _her_ type. The blond just nodded at her and turned around, but looked back at her again.

"After you eat your pastry, can I ask a favor? Something to do with a faculty member in Crescent Academy, okay? Thanks." He did not even wait for her approval or what, Len just resumed emptying his mug.

* * *

So, here she was! Finally finished with her slice of cake. The sound of the clattering ceramics didn't go unnoticed by the blonds, and Oliver immediately rushed to take the dishes, handing her the bill as well. Miku paid him and stood, ready to leave, but froze on her spot when Len stood beside her. Slowly, she turned to look at him, face wrinkled to show discomfort with their proximity.

"What do you want?" she asked, narrowing her eyes to him. There was a weird excitement written all over his face when she spoke - of course, she didn't know that he was more attracted to her when she would treat him like a pet peeve. He stood silently for several seconds, until he started laughing and scratching the back of his neck.

"I didn't realize that you're more stunning this close," he chuckled before digging something in his pocket. Miku was about to insult and threaten him when the blond showed her a small piece of paper. "Can you help me finding this - oh!" He instantly kept the note back in his coat. Miku was not able to see whatever was written there. "Do you know this Mikuo Hatsune from the academy? He looks awfully lot like you. I just noticed."

Miku, as much as possible, didn't want to reply. It would only initiate a longer conversation that she didn't want to occur at all. He was a mere acquaintance whom she met by chance, and Miku got no energy to keep him as a friend. Flirtatious guys like him would always trouble her.

She could read him. She knew how guys do their moves. Miku met a bunch back in her college days. Thus said, she mastered the art of ignoring flirts. Len was already showing his interest towards her - unless it was all joke to him - and if this assumption was true, this guy would definitely try wooing her. Or maybe he was already doing it.

An irritated sigh parted her lips. Miku turned her back and walked out of the shop. Glancing at her watch, she still had the time in preparing for her class. Her brother would surely scold her for being absent on the first half of the day and demand for an explanation.

 _Oh, that._ The explanation, she hadn't come up with a sound one yet. What to say? _Held up at gunpoint_? No, medieval ages had been long gone. _Oversleeping_? That was an obvious lie, too. _'I am busy disposing all rubbish he sent me for the past four years!'_ \- maybe if she'd tell the truth, her brother wouldn't be so pissed.

She was merely two blocks away from the shop when her train of thoughts was cut off by a hand yanking her arm. Miku was twirled around, facing the blond she met last night. His face seemed to glow under the faint light from the grey sky, his eyes cobalt blue. His nose was pink against the natural paleness of his skin, and his lips - quite dry. This blond had the very face of "I really hate cold winds and cold stuff so I won't come out of my den" look.

Miku tried to shrug off his hand. "If you don't let go of my arm, I'll charge you with sexual harassment."

He flashed another boy nextdoor grin, unintentionally showing off his toothsomeness with those perfectly straight white pearls.

And no, she wasn't ogling him. Hell, she wasn't. Not at all. Maybe.

"You won't do that," he said, letting go of her arm anyway. She watched him withdraw his hand and wondered why he wasn't wearing any mittens. "Are you Mr. Hatsune's sister?"

"What the deuce is it to you if I am his sister or not? It's not a pennyworth of information." His face fell. She was about to leave when he held her back again. "What is it this time?"

"You mean you're Miku Hatsune?" he looked so unconvinced. He was staring down at her, curse him for being too tall, she only reached his lips.

She wordless _-ly_ nodded.

"Are you sure? I...I mean," he let out a nervous chuckle. "Man, you're too hot to be cheated."

Miku furrowed her brows. Now, Fukase didn't mention anything to this guy, did he? It would be totally rude if that fox-head was gossiping her breakup to his friends. And his friends weren't _her_ friends in the first place.

"How did you know that?" her voice was venomous, inquiring. Letting other people knew about how her relationship went was like a big slap to her face. She used to talk about _them_ \- about how ideal Kaito was for the past four years, until she learned the truth. "You're not funny, you know. Probing about people's personal problem is really rude. Let me go."

"I'm sorry, wait! H-hey, look. I've got this -"

"Why would you even bother talking to me? I'm doing my best to give you a cold shoulder, to treat like a flea, because I don't want to talk to guys! Especially _you._ You're weird. Scary. You even know about my issues. Wow. We're not even friends. So please, piss off."

Miku ran away from him, disgusted. She was wasting so much time while talking to him. They just met last night like how she would bump to random people. And yet here he was, already knowledgeable of her affairs. That was...she didn't know what to feel exactly. It was nothing to be proud of, to be honest. Because when the talk was about betrayal, the one cheated always looked weak, inferior and helpless. Maybe that was the reason why she refused to tell people about her experience. She was not _that_ weak to stop breathing without Kaito in her life.

For the benefit of the doubt, she lived the first twenty-and-two years of her life without her _ex_ boyfriend. Now that she was free from an unfaithful relationship with him (with Kaito being unfaithful), she could conclude that she was better off without him.

Letting people know that she was cheated was wounding her pride, nonetheless.

For some reasons, she couldn't get mad to the blond. He was just a passerby in her life, so let him say what he wanted to. He didn't matter to her. Again, they just met last night.

* * *

 **Happy holidays!**

 **Here's an update for y'all. I forgot writing this part because I was struck with this thing called** _ **laziness**_ **after that 12k oneshot I posted a few days ago. Oh, well.**

 **To the readers, thank you so much! Though I don't get (a lot of) reviews (and reads, either) you still care to click into this story and give it a shot. Tysm!**

 **For the previous reviews I got:**

 **whiteAngel##: thanks! I'm glad to know that you're waiting for Miku's appearance, so here is it.**

 **tiger: you flatter me! thank you. I'm not good but i'm still on my way to learning. i need to learn sensei's ways. tysm for appreciating this fic!**

 **I hope you'll enjoy your holidays! Tell me what you think about this chap.**

 **-** _ **ivan.**_


	9. Chapter 9

Mikuo went out to meet his sister on the school gate right after receiving a call from her. She was being stalked by a blond according to her, and the said _stalker_ was persistently convincing her that he _wasn't_ doing such thing—Mikuo could actually hear his voice. Miku yelled on the phone, asking how on earth that it wasn't counted as stalking when he knew her personal affairs. It was a one-sided talk, actually, and Mikuo's role was just to listen.

When Miku finally had a grip of herself, her voice turned down. She had no idea how she made Mikuo's left ear rang. The other voice she seemed to be talking with indirectly was gone after some static. The big brother he was, told her to just get in the school as soon as possible and mind her job first. They had all evening to talk about it in a good restaurant. He even promised that he would treat her.

"Miku, I hope you have a wonderful explanation why you are—" Mikuo was instantly silenced when his sister looked at him with those green irises. He was reminded that although he was the elder sibling between the two of them, girls were generally scary when mad.

Mikuo and Miku were the only children of the Hatsune household. Their parents were known as good artists in the highlands: their father being a musician and their mother, a sculptor. Ever since their childhood days, the two showed their interests in arts, in which both of them liked doing music and visual arts.

Their summertime was always spent in their music room where huge glass doors could be opened to let the summer breeze circulate inside. The two would sing as their father played the piano, with their mother was the only audience, if the birds and flowers and bees weren't counted. Most of the times they were tutored by their father to play an instrument the whole school break, and by the end of summer, the father and his children would perform jazz for their mother and grandparents. Today, Mikuo could play a variety of instruments whilst she could only do piano and a little of violin.

It wasn't so soon when Miku realized that she actually liked colors and brushes and canvases, more than she appreciated piano and violin. She expressed her interest in making art when she was eleven, by chance. Her mother left a blank canvas in her workshop together with the untouched tube of oil paints. Her mother wasn't so fond of painting, she preferred making rough sketches than using colors at all. Mrs Hatsune was a sculptor after all.

Picking up the brush in the silence of warm afternoon, Miku began to dye her life with splash of different colors. The very first painting she made was the one hanging on the wall above her headboard, a picture of her music-filled summertime memories.

Long story cut short, Miku pursued this field of arts while Mikuo took what their father influenced them—music.

"Did Len ask you anything about my breakup with Kaito?" the tealette asked, whisking away the barren hallways with her brother. The brick walls screamed _home_ as she walked along the corridor, the sound of her thudding heels bouncing off from wall to wall.

"If you are talking about the blond prodigy from your college, yes. But he didn't ask _anything_ at all. He came here upon request," Mikuo placed a hand on her head and ruffled the girl's hair. His younger sister had to loosen up a bit, she was always tensed ever since she ended her four-years of a relationship with that cheater.

Mikuo was one of those who convinced her to break up with him, telling his sister that she had no reason to stay with someone who couldn't _truly_ wait for her. In reality, he knew nothing about love and its complications since he never felt anything like this towards the opposite sex. He was speaking about the matter of trust and loyalty, and the basic knowledge of this would be enough to come up with a million reasons why end her relationship with Kaito Shion. Luckily, she listened to him.

Their steps were hurried, taken as quick as possible. The clock hanging on the hallway showed that Miku had enough time left to pick up her things and move to her next class, three corridors away from the faculty. Amid their quick pace of walking, Miku was taking off her coat and Mikuo was helping her by holding up the collar from her back so she'd just slip out of it.

Miku peered at him curiously, replaying what he said in her mind. _From her college?_ As if he read what was that look she was giving him meant, Mikuo spoke again, folding the coat in his arms.

"You haven't forgotten him, have you?" When she continued to glare, Mikuo scratched the back of her head. "You're impossible, Miku. How can you forget him? Even if we were from different departments, I knew him. He was extremely popular. Well, his brother _is,_ until today."

Miku's perpetual glare vexed Mikuo. She couldn't even remember if Len told her his surname at all, and she didn't care anyway. And now, Mikuo's telling her that he was from the same university? _Preposterous._

"I don't know who is his brother and I can't recall meeting him back in the university."

"Oh, sure. You're misremembering something, then. Your eyes are all for Kaito before, can't blame you for missing the celebrities in your college," he huffed, breaking the eye contact.

"Are you that stupid blond's friend or something? I got a feeling that you are siding him over me, actually."

"His brother is my friend. The younger Kagamine is really...ugh, how do I put it? _Distant?_ " Mikuo led them to the faculty, turning right to another hallway where the room could be seen at the end. "Honestly, I'm surprised with his change of character. Didn't know he's capable of being outgoing."

Miku shrugged, she wasn't really interested to hear anything about that stalker. Why would she bother knowing his background? "Aa, is that so? When did you last see him, exactly?"

His forefinger and middle finger drummed on his chin as he counted back the years in his head. The last time happened long ago. No wonder why the blond didn't recognize him. "He was only eight, I think? Leon and I are classmates since high school so I saw him when he was still a cute boy. Leon had a wonderful explanation with regard to their names, you should ask your _blondie_ friend sometimes."

Miku, with a final scoff, denied the friendship Mikuo was talking about. She wasn't friends with a stalker. Len's not an acquaintance, either.

They finally reached the end of the hallway. Mikuo slid the door open for her, the warm air from the faculty brushed against their faces. The season was beginning to freeze everything now, snow was the only thing needed to complete the winter package.

"I don't think he's stalking you or something," Mikuo mumbled, holding the door for her.

"Wow, Mikuo," the tealette couldn't believe he was her big brother. "Just wow. I'll pick up my things and meet my students. If that creep showed up again, you do something about it. Bye," Miku gave her older brother a peck on his cheek, then ran inside the faculty to sweep her things on her table into her arms.

The older sibling watched his little sister (that was no little) whisked away from the faculty room. His face was slightly flushed from that platonic action, but he couldn't help it. He was really bad in dealing with girls, perhaps this was the reason why he and Leon Kagamine got along really well. Two older brothers who would rather adopt a cat or dog than to commit themselves in relationships. Forget the good genes, they already entrusted the spreading of their comeliness to their younger siblings who were more interested finding their soulmates.

Maybe he should ask Leon to arrange a dinner for the four of them? His younger brother included?

Or maybe not.

* * *

 **i don't mean to make it sound like mikuo had a thing for a miku, okay? i love them as siblings.**

 **-ivan.**


	10. Chapter 10

_Stalker, huh?_ Len thought as he leaned his head against the window of the cab. His dull blue eyes were passively watching the rows of pine trees that stretched far ahead as the cab passed by them. The dull white sky and the fat white clouds reminded him of his room's ceiling, thus he suddenly felt the urge to apologize. He was sorry for being born as a failure.

The blond shrugged as he slid his phone in the pocket of his coat. Five minutes had already passed when he decided that he wouldn't be able to ask his subject to model for him, given the fact that Miku was easily irritated whenever her ex-boyfriend would be brought up. It happened once, come to think of it, when he mentioned that she was _too hot to be cheated_ in the heat of the moment. He wouldn't forget the way her eyes flared with anger when he said the word _cheated,_ and before he could take back anything he blurted out, she was already raging. Hence, the _stalker_ pet name (or it wasn't a pet name at all) was born.

That exact scenario when she walked and yelled at her phone replayed in his head. He could see anger searing out of her entire being as he briskly took her leave, back turned to him. She was calling his brother that time, purposefully turning up her voice to indirectly address him with her complaints.

Len thought it was such a childish demeanor, to react in such manner, considering that they were already in their mid-20's. They were mature enough to start their own families (unless he would find a way to make her his wife, then _they_ would be a family). He expected that she was better than that after seeing how cold and austere she treated him. Len assumed that she would slap his face just to shut him up. Temperamental women formed the majority of the female population after all. A person wouldn't wish to cross roads with an angry girl.

He brought his face in his hands, a frown forming on his lips. The rows of pine trees standing alongside the road looked lonelier and lonelier as time rolled by. This ride would be a little entertaining if the cab driver would allow him to roll down the window and feel the chilly air. The cold wind, in spite of his disinterest towards anything cold, could always make him feel numb and forget. It was the best thing to do right now, he sighed. He didn't want to piss off any woman as much as he could, because whenever he'd always remember his mother beginning a litany no one knew when it would end.

Another sighed slipped through his parted lips. His eyes were glued to the endless pines trees, and his thoughts drifted from his mother to this endless road. It was no surprise that the highlands had all this greenery. Len was not used to see trees instead of skycrappers, that was his issue. So keeping an eye on these trees...this town felt so serene.

He let out another sigh. His body missed the feeling of his soft bed and cold sheets (that were hopefully no longer cold by the time he got home, had Rei fulfilled his promise). Today's events had sent him to different extremes of his emotions—anger, joy and dejection—and had consumed so much of his energy. He could barely keep his eyes open right now. It didn't help that the unchanging scenery was making him droop his eyes.

When the first car traveling on the opposite lane was noticed, Len heaved another sigh. The car's color - teal - reminded him of the gorgeous girl he had argued a few minutes ago. He would be more than glad to draw her, but the idea that this paid commission was to help her ex-boyfriend...it saddened the blond. He loved her face when she was angry, when the tips of her ears burned red (until her entire ears were red), when her eyes would look at him with no hesitation—it was that appealing to him. Wincing his head, Len angled his head back to the window. He could see the contour of land half a mile from where they were as of the moment, sloping downwards like a tiny hill. This place was really _cute._

"You must be lonely to sigh thrice a row," the cab driver spoke, giving the blond passenger passing glances through the mirror.

"Not at all," Len said that with a huff. "I must be tired, I think." He answered it like a sigh. It surprised him that speaking this few made him feel so lifeless already.

For a moment the cab driver did not talk. Len had a brief glance over his reflection, he was smiling a little. What was so funny or worth smiling, anyway?

"Having troubles with women?" the cab driver prompted.

Faintly he chuckled. It must be written all over the blond's face. "It shows, doesn't it?"

"Breaking up?"

"Not at all." Len felt like answering was slowly beginning to be a burden. "We aren't an item."

"Friends?" the cab took a left turn.

"That's out of the option, either." This conversation is dragging.

"You have the looks. You'll find a girl for you," said the driver.

Len smiled briefly. Actually he found her already. Miku might kick his balls if he were to confess that he was smitten by her at first sight, though that seemed plausible since her beauty and mysterious personality lured him so much. But nobody would buy _love at first sight_ today, and Len was sure that his friends would make fun of him. He could practically hear them telling that the blond only wanted to get laid with a pretty chick.

He didn't want her that way. Maybe he did, but he was curious about her. Len was ever the sappy guy, believing soulmates true. There was an _eerie_ connection (or attraction) drawing him to her when they first met yesterday, like wanting to get under her skin or simply just her attention. He liked the idea that she was looking his way, that she was irritated with his existence or something, because he (didn't know why, but) thought she's more stunning when mad.

The other thing he liked about her was her body. He wasn't fantasizing about her like how a normal guy with carnal desires would; it was just that her frame was so inviting to draw. Not too busty or whatnot. Len couldn't remember exactly when, but he must have drawn a person of the same body proportions. The blond dismissed these thoughts when his phone rang.

He began with a sigh. "What do you want?"

Rei was on the other line. "Hey, butthead. Sounds like you're going to rip your paintings once you're home, huh? Have you met the subject?"

"Yes," Len scratched his forehead. "This girl...I like her, actually. I met her last night but I didn't get her name. Who would've thought that we'll meet each other again this way."

"Are you thinking of dropping the commission now?"

Len stared at the changing scenery from the window. The pine trees were left behind as they went through a different road. He would love to draw Miku, of course. But...to do it for her ex-boyfriend? He wasn't so sure now. "Rei, why is this asshole paid for this commission? Can a painting or simple portrait mend their relationship?"

"I didn't ask further about this, but he mentioned that she likes paintings. Oh, he also mentioned that their relationship began there—with a painting, a portrait of her."

"I see," Len remained quiet for some seconds, contemplating. "I...I'm not sure if I should continue. I can't paint women, you know."

"Really? I think you should. Get back here at once, I'm gonna show you something. Fukase and I are in your flat. We got six cans of beer so better hurry up or you'll miss the fun."

Len could hear the raven and ginger guy arguing softly from the other line, debating about the mess in Len's flat. It went something like this _: no, man. This is already messy_ — _shut up, Fukase. Just push his things on a side! Put the beer, oh! Shit, that's not coffee!_

"Aa, buttshit. I'll smash you together," Len snarled. "Don't touch my materials, you—" and the line went dead. The blond felt more stressed after the call. If Rei and Fukase moved a single thing from their places in his room, he might murder one of them.

Len could function in a place where his things were organized the way he left it. If one object was not where he left it the last time, he might lose his sanity as he would rant about the secret black hole under the carpet which sucked all his missing paint brushes in. This was his definition of _organization,_ albeit the whole stuff was _mess_ for Rei and others.

* * *

"Dude," Rei scrunched his nose as he patted Fukase's back. The said redhead spluttered the contents in his mouth right when Rei told him that it wasn't coffee. It was Len's mug, for Pete's sake. They knew what the blond had stored in there.

"Watercolor," coughed the redhead as he gagged. Yes, indeed. It was a tad late though, for that realization. "Len's place is..."

"We can't describe this with a word alone. Come on, let's wait for him in his bedroom. That is the safest place," the studio director went towards the bedroom. Earlier today, he went back in Len's flat to leave the painting he got from the tealette in his room. Rei was sure that it would help to motivate the blond with his work. He had replaced Len's heater so blond should really return the favor!

When he yanked the door open, the redhead behind Rei noticed the painting above Len's desk. Fukase said it was familiar, he just couldn't recall where could have seen it. Rei told him that it was from Miku, and that the lady in the painting was her, too.

"No way," exclaimed the redhead, bemused. "She never modelled in any art class back in her college days—or at least that was what she always told me. Because, wow, this is really pretty. She looks like a goddess."

Rei smirked. Len never painted while someone was modelling for him, too. What an odd pair. He could remember that day when the blond asked him to watch the cultural presentation of a certain art class. The way Len looked at a specific girl on the stage bewildered Rei that time, because usually the blond wouldn't stare at girls for more than two seconds (unless it was for a draw class. He would stare for a minute and memorize the pose before leaving the room). For the first time, Rei saw Len staring a woman's figure intently. Who would have thought that he was after the girl herself—not as mere reference of art, but as a woman to be loved?

 _Len of all people?_ The idea looked absurd to Rei at first. However when Len finished the painting and won the grand prize, the raven haired artist realized what inspiration could do to Len.

 _Chained,_ the title flashed in Rei's mind. Miku played the role of the lead female in their version of _Phantom of the Opera._ She was a good dancer and singer, and he heard that she also crafted the costumes and props with her team. Rei was not interested with her, though admittedly he liked her because of her talents. He was busy chasing Len back then.

"Who painted this?" asked Fukase, tracing his fingers across the canvas.

Rei smiled, "A genius, I guess."


	11. Chapter 11

"Why are you so worked up about her, Len? She's just a subject. One of your many subjects," Rei walked down the frozen streets of the downtown, eyes fixated on the distance. The night was too chilly this time of the day compared yesterday. He had seen in the news that some parts of the city had started to snow. Highlands included. He continued to walk in silence, anticipating a reply he _expected_ from the blond. And here Rei was, pressing on the issue to elicit the missing link of the mystery back in their college days.

Why the blond prodigy lost his grand prize-winner artwork.

Len stopped on his tracks, kicking a pebble on the ground and watched it roll away. A wisp of his blond hair fell loosely on his face, whilst the white air he puffed clouded his vision. It was such a tiring day, he thought, and answering Rei's question was making him more exhausted.

The raven boy must know the answers already, his queries were just making fun of him. Len knew it, he knew Rei just like the lines on his palms. The blond knew where this interrogation would lead to. Sighing, the thin white breath wafted in front him once more.

The two continued to walk, on Len's lead. Walking along them was the thick silence which made Len awkward. Yes, only Len. Rei was enjoying himself so much, to see Len at such state was delightful for him. Seeing the blond dejected and broken hearted was just plain funny. Nevertheless, it was a rare sight so he really would enjoy it.

"Aa, since when did you like giving people a cold shoulder, Len? Come on, spill. Who knows, I might help," Rei spoke, burying his gloved hands in the pocket of his coat.

Len's flat was a few lots away. It would leave Rei dissatisfied if he wouldn't hear Len talk to him. Ever since they chose to send Fukase back to his apartment, Len did not entertain any questions about his _subject_ and the _art_ which returned to his place after several years.

* * *

When Len entered his room earlier that afternoon, weary and sad from an hour drive, the first thing he saw was the two intruders seated in front his TV, watching some Disney movie while empty cans of beers surrounded them. The redhead was singing along the Disney princess, his thick-framed spectacles were noticeably not perched on the bridge of his nose. Fukase's voice resonated in Len's small flat, still it could be also heard along the halls. He was drunk, that was for sure, as he continued to wave his arms in the air.

Rei was just smiling when Len entered, waving his hand a little as though welcoming the blond. Rei was completely sober to give him that smirk—that knowing smirk which the blond hated the most. The raven haired picked up the remote and muted the TV, annoying the drunk redhead along the process.

"Why'd you do that? Can't see I'm singing, huh?" Fukase slurred and crawled to steal the remote back, only to be kicked on his stomach.

"The owner's here. You want to be kicked out? — Hey, Len! How's the trip? How is the _girlfriend_ subject of yours?" Rei turned to face Len. The blond shrugged and slumped on the space next to the raven haired. Even in the dimness of the room, Rei saw how worn out Len was.

"I'm tired. Hand me a beer," Len murmured. When Rei ignored him, the blond stood and picked up one on the coffee table, then proceeded to his room.

"Oi, got a present there anyway. On your desk, it's a painting." Rei watched the blond in the corner of his eyes, Len's listless body pushed its way to his room. The door swung open and the light flickered. The blond walked in and Rei counted mentally, until he heard the can of beer drop on the ground. "Voila."

"Rei! Where did you find this?" Len scampered out of his room, holding the long lost painting in his arms. His listless form was now hyped, energized and, well, alert? The blond's saucer eyes anticipated an answer from Rei, but to his disappointment, the studio director just gave him a nod...a nod that pushed his dark fringe away from his eyes.

"Shouldn't the question be...where did that painting go for these past, what, four years?" Rei smirked. Amber clashed with cobalt blue, both stared into each other with intensity. "Did you give _it_ to _her,_ Len?"

Len huffed, a little puzzled with Rei's weird queries. Was he trying to act like a detective? Answering a question with a question made him sound idiotic. "What are you saying, Rei? Answer me, how did you find it?"

Rei tutted and winced. Fukase remained on the ground, half-dozing as he tried listening to the two. "No, Len. Answer me. Why was _she_ keeping this painting?"

Blinking in mild surprise, Len tried to rationalize what the hell was going on. "Hang on a moment..." the blond pinched the bridge of his nose in deep thought, "Who the fuck is that ' _she'_ you're rambling about?" If his memory served him right, Len _never_ associated himself to any girl _romantically._

What surprised the blond more was Rei's evil, dramatic laughter echoing inside his flat. "Don't give me that butt-look, Len. I know that you know _who_ I am talking about. The model of that painting had been keeping that art for so long! _That_ painting which could reunite you and your brother had been in someone's care all this time! And here we are thinking that it was robbed or some sort. So tell me, why did she have it?"

"You've gone nuts," the blond marched back in his room, completely ignorant of whatever Rei was talking about. "First of all, we won't talk about how this painting would mend Leon's pride, Rei. Second of all, I don't remember the model of this painting anymore. So get your shit collected and stop interrogating me like a stupid investigator."

Mystified, Rei jumped out of his seat and followed Len in his room. Back in their college days, Leon and Len had been in _poor terms_ as siblings attending the same college. It was an understatement that the younger blond was constantly compared to the achievements of his elder brother, and Len couldn't care less. He really never pursued his studies to be a second version, a replica of his brother. But instead, he wished to have a name of his own. Len bore a reputation opposite of his brother. He even called Leon a teacher's puppet, for he easily pleased their professors by doing what he was expected to do. Len did the otherwise.

Leon was very annoyed with how Len behaved in class—and this irritation began since elementary days—and thus, he tried to discipline Len in every possible way. Only for Len to become more defiant and uncaged. He had the talent, Leon told Rei one time during their mutual break time. Len was a talented young man, his talent—if given more attention and practice—could surpass Leon himself. However, Len didn't want to stick with the conventions and continued to learn _the hard way._ He refused to join art contests to avoid meeting Leon's standards. It was Len's own way if protesting against his brother. So when the news that Len won a grand prize in a contest reached Leon, the elder brother hurried to see the art...only to find it _missing._

"You didn't want to make up with Leon?" Rei peered inside the blond's room, eyes darting everywhere. He must be hiding in his walk-in closet again. "If you told us that _she_ had it all these years, Leon wouldn't be mad."

"Rei, why are you so concerned about Leon?" Len walked out of his closet, arms free from the painted canvas earlier. "You're like _them._ You only wanted to please Leon." Once again, amber clashed with cobalt blue.

"Maybe I am," Rei chuckled, stepping inside Len's room. The warm air hit his bare face, and he realized that the heatet was turned on. "Maybe I am trying to please, Leon. But we both know only _you_ can do that. Tell me, Len. What inspired you when you painted that?"

"The model? I don't know. I can't remember anymore."

"Really," the studio director rolled his eyes and stood before the parted curtains to stare at the empty street below them. "How can you forget Miku Hatsune, Len? Isn't she that girl?"

"She has nothing to do with me. She's just a subject...my latest subject. Someone who got my attention," the blond drew the curtains together, a scowl adorned his lips. The way his blue eyes looked distant, it seemed like Len couldn't remember who was Miku in his past.

The two remained silent for a good half minute, but the trance was cut when they heard a groan from the living room. Fukase was saying he was about to throw up, so the two rushed to the redhead and decided to escort him back home.

* * *

 **Happy new year, everyone. I have got a cold, sadly.**

 **Anyway, cheers for my 11th chapter!**

 **\- ivan.**


	12. Chapter 12

Inspiration. Advice. Yes, he was here for those.

Len stood silently before the door. In spite of the cold weather, the blond went to their old house to meet a significant person who might motivate him to paint. As he stared at the apple-red door, he could feel the _dragons_ (not butterflies) fluttering in his stomach. How did those fit in? That he didn't know, too. The blond tugged on his muffler again, hiding the lower half of his face from the soft cloth. He was not shy, it was his home, but he could not handle well the jittery feeling he could get every time he would come home.

Ever since he was a child, Len had been hearing the adage _"there is no place like home"_ as if it was played from a broken CD. As a boy, whose self-esteem was lesser than zero, he found their house a haven that would protect him from the strangers outside. Their small garden served as his small private place and the plants, his only friends. Leon, his older brother, was an outside observer in his life (yes, big bro wouldn't interact with his own sibling), person who was not a significant image in his childhood. Their parents were always delirious about art and music, so when Leon's potential was soon realized, the kid was brought up _only_ in that world, isolating himself from Len.

Len liked colors. He liked brushes and canvases and palettes and bottle jars, too. The way how colors gave life to plain illustrations mesmerized him as a boy. Why he loved to stay outdoors was for that very reason. Flowers and leaves had distinct glows in them, like they were emanating the radiance only living things could possess. He also liked what gives everything life, the sky. It would let the rain to fall down, let the sun to shine. So, it amused him to watch the sky turn faded orange from azure blue during sunsets and pitch black to blue in mornings. As a child, he stayed so much in the garden until his mind and soul was filled with the radiance of everything.

It was then he realized that he wanted to recreate the beauty his eyes could see. It was summertime when he first took hold of a paint brush furtively. Len had seen his brother sit quietly in a stool before a canvas, wordlessly dipping his brush on the palette and grazing colors on the blank coarse cloth. Such moment made him think of doing art, too. It was not like he wanted to be like Leon or anything. In fact, he didn't like his brother in any way, but he didn't hate him either. The boy was simply aware of the great wall that separated him from his elder brother - and that was the heart for _art._ At first Len wasn't sure if he started to paint because he just wanted to recreate the beauty his eyes could see or just to feel what was it like to be artsy. Nevertheless he painted.

His first painting was their garden (of course). It was nothing compared to Leon's work but it left him with so much impression that he didn't stop painting after that. Len got lost in the colors and their vibrance, and soon he rarely went out of his room. For the first time in his seven years of living, Len didn't spend summer lying under the tree to admire nature. He was confined in his room, away from the glaring sunlight, staining his shirt and skin with paint from the tubes akin to his parents. On that day, Len became a painter in secrecy.

Such secret was unveiled to his family soon enough. Five months after he started to paint, Len's parents discovered what he was doing in his spare time. He was caught red-handed one time after his parents went home too soon from an art exhibit. There was a smear of blue on his cheeks that time.

His mother noticed that her usually quiet child was rather antsy upon their arrival. His eyes that stood out because of its blueness flitted around the house, his fingers kept drumming on his lap. Len was fidgety and his face had an obvious look that wished to finish the talk. It was a tradition in their house that both kids have to greet their parents home mindless of their businesses. So his mother stared at him and asked, "Are you painting before we got here?

Len winced his head quickly. None of his nerves willed him to nod. If he said yes, his life would be caged, restricted and planned by his parents...like what they did to Leon. So, it was a no. However, the evidence was literally on his face - that smudge of blue staining his pale skin - and his mother didn't have to ask twice.

"Do you like the sky, Len?" she asked again, walking to Len's room this time. He knew he couldn't hide it anymore, but he didn't want to stop painting. At least not yet, he was just beginning. "I like the sky, too. It is the only _unchanging_ thing in this world, so far."

Len liked what his mother said, even though he didn't really get her point. He was too young to understand the world in an adult's eyes, but his mother's words...it sounded so wistful. He wanted to paint that, the thing people couldn't see. Amused, he watched her and her long strides as she went ahead of him, the graceful posture that seemed to dance in every step. She held such immense wisdom that she alone had gained, and those hands of hers, they painted such knowledge once.

When his mom entered his room, and he followed after her; Len heard but one word: _"Paint."_

The blond buried his left hand in his pocket. He lifted up the other one to keep a wisp of his lemon hair away from his face. It was a windy afternoon, foggy and cold at that. Just as how he hated it. He was here again after four years, standing nervously before the familiar rusty gate from his childhood. The lush foliage was faded and pale against the season, perhaps the leaves would fall out soon once snow began to fall in this town.

Standing there for fifteen minutes, Len did nothing to announce his presence. He would have pressed the doorbell if he wasn't so worked up with what his parents and brother might say. "Had a change of heart?" - he could hear his brother talking there. No, Leon might not talk the moment he looked at him. He would bring Len quickly to their parents for sure. And the younger sibling didn't wish to see them. Not yet. The _magnum opus_ he yelled at their faces when he ran away from home was not yet made. The blond couldn't stand that look his mother might give - a look that claims just how much of a disgrace he was in the family.

How did he get here again? What was wrong with his head that when he woke up he decided to see and talk to Leon? Was the two-hours of silence worth it? Leon wouldn't speak a word to him unless he would bring back the painting that won the much coveted grand prize.

The coldness began to bite his bare face and hands. His white breath fogged his sight, and nothing was keeping his body warm anymore. Len decided it was time to go. Turning around to leave, his eyes, whose blueness stood out, casted downwards. The guts to face his family, he didn't have it yet. However, before he could walk farther, he heard the gate to open behind him.

"Len? What is my dear lil' brother doing here?" Leon stepped out of the gate holding a white tabby cat in his arms. "Come in, Mum and Dad would love to see you...again."

Inspiration and advice, he was here to ask for those. Yes, he didn't come here to reunite with his parents. Wincing his head slowly, Len pulled down the muffler from covering half of his face. Leon had never grown his hair longer past his shoulder. He was still the beautiful boy their dad was so proud of.

"I came here to talk to you, brother."


	13. Chapter 13

"Why the hell are you locking yourself in for three straight days!? Come on, Len. Open the door!" Rei kicked Len's door as he stood out of the blond's flat. He knew the blond prodigy since childhood and thus he knew that being a hermit never crossed Len's mind. "Open this freaking door, buttface."

Len rolled his eyes as he walked closer to the door which was receiving an abusive treatment from Rei's shoes. Surely, it felt nice to have someone worrying about you once in a while, but the blond artist wished he could appreciate why this studio director was this pumped up, so pumped he would kick his flat's door every morning after his jog. This was rather...an aggressive kind of concern, you see. Anyway, who would jog on a wintry morning? Rei, who else? When Len just groaned in reply, his door shook again. Muttering a curse to himself, he stood next to the door.

"You know what, Rei? If you want Leon's autograph, go ask him yourself. I never thought you're this extreme fanboy," he pulled his sleeves up to his elbow, stretching his arms a little. "I don't know what's with Leon and why everyone likes him this bad. He's just a pretty face. I mean, come on, I'm more charming."

"Goodness, Len. How," Rei sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "How arrogant can you get? Look, I'm not here for an autograph. I'm not here to patronize your face, either. Just get out of that cave and get the commission done! We have a very short time left! The guy didn't pay me for you to slack off."

"I know," Len answered, gluing his eyes on the door. He could imagine Rei pacing back and forth, with wrinkles forming in his forehead and lips sloping down to a frown. "But it is Leon's fault for accusing me such horrible things."

"It's an advice, not an accusation." Rei kicked the door again, more forcefully. "Come on, ain't that what you're seeking for? He gave you what you asked for! Now get back to your job!"

"Stop being a biased jerk. Can you like...set aside your admiration for my bro? He insulted me! And Leon's very good in insulting me. It's as if he took...Bachelor of Arts in insulting Len. I bet he had the highest Latin awards," He felt so smart there. Len held the knob while snickering, preparing himself for a whole pack of entertainment. "Moreover, I can't think of a reason how he ended up concluding that I have a weird fetish. He probably envied my beauty. What do you think?"

"Len Kagamine! For Pete's sake, come out now. Kaito said he's coming over to talk to you if you won't do the commissioned art." Rei went for another kick only for the door to open, making him lose his balance and fall inside Len's flat. He didn't know what happened then, it was just a spin of colors and the next thing he knew, his face crashed against the floor's dark green carpet. Len laughed aloud, his sight turning blurry. "Gosh. Won't you grow up? This ain't funny." The raven-haired pushed himself up and brushed off the dust from his jacket. "Your place looks like a landfill for real."

Heck, it really was. A heap of crumpled papers scattered around the house, leaving no corners uncovered. Cans of soad pop and boxes of pizza also littered his living room. It smelled really nasty like a kitchen left uncleaned for two days, with a mountain of dishes piled up on the sink and the leftovers ignored aside. A bunch of cheesecloths stained with a splatter of acrylic paint was frittering on the sofa along with wasted canvasses.

"Okay, you know what," Rei stood on his two feet while fanning his hand in front his nose. He hated foul others the most because, well, he grew up adapting Leon's behavior. Indeed, he was an extreme fanboy just like what Len said. "It's either you get a maid or you get a wife."

"And what's the maid for?" Len asked, pulling his hair in a pony as he walked back to his room. He didn't really have the energy to argue with Rei now so he might as well go to the Crescent Academy to pay that cranky belle a visit. He might as well plan how to annoy her. His thoughts began fiddling away with the possible expressions she would make, her brows furrowing and cheeks flushing as she would lash out her annoyance to him. And he would make more fun of her for she was trying to stay as classy as she could.

"To fix and clean your flat," answered Rei as he leaned against the doorjamb, still fanning his hand in front his nose, albeit the blond's smelled less filthy than his receiving area. He watched Len as he pulled out a thick jacket from his wardrobe, the only neat place in this small space Len called home.

"So what's the wife for?" Len said half-laughing, finding no need of a maid nor a wife in his life. He couldn't even get a girl friend despite his _pretty_ face. What a waste. But then again, it was his choice, not the girls'. He was busy finding ' _the one'_ while messing up with other women. Oh, right. With that said, he might as well find a way how to make the cranky girl fall in love with him. Yes, he thought it was sweet if he could marry his first love. Just how nice was that? It wasn't _just_ nice, Len thought. It was romantic.

"Well, get a wife so she can fix your life. You're badly bungling your life, in case you don't notice," the studio director turned around and paved his way outside Len's flat. It was one hell of a dump turned into an apartment complex. Len just mumbled a _'yeah, whatever mom. I'll try proposing later,'_ before pushing him out of his place, locking the door behind him. All he got was a sketchbook and a single pencil which slid in his pocket. The sketchbook was handy, too. It was just in a size of a tickler. He put the small drawing pad at the back pocket of his pants.

"What are those for?" Rei shot him a weird glare as they stepped inside the elevator. The blond shrugged and told him that those things were nothing of importance, and for a moment they remained quiet. As they walked out of the elevator, making their way out of the building, Rei asked Len one question that kept him restless for the past few days since Len shut himself in his flat. "Why did you come and meet Leon, Len?"

Len made up his mind a few years ago, right after their graduation, that he wouldn't try contacting nor communicating with his family. Rei could still recall the petty argument the blond went through when he gave away the painting, the _only_ painting which brought him to the pedestal back in their university days. The raven-haired director remembered how Len threw the gold medal to the floor, making a loud clanking sound which also spoke for the blond. He was so done of his parents' expectations and he was so done being compared to Leon. _'I had enough,'_ were Len's parting words and that moment then, he dragged Rei out of the Da Vinci's open theater where Len was awarded.

"Nothing," said Len, giving Rei a tight smile. "It was nothing. You shouldn't worry."

It was anything but nothing, Rei thought to himself. Why was he so interested, anyway?


	14. Chapter 14

"You're so pathetic," said Leon clearly as he put down his cup of tea. The blond stared at his younger brother as though he could read his mind, and all the while his scrutinizing Len, he was petting the white tabby cat dozing off on his lap. "You're so pathetic, and yet you don't realize it. I don't understand what sort of an airhead have you become. Coming all the way here to ask for an _advice_ and _inspiration_? Are you really an artist, Len?"

The younger blond, whose hair was held in a single, messy pigtail at the nape of his neck, just hissed and rolled his eyes. He hated being scolded by his brother when they _rarely_ talked to each other in the first place. Len hated his brother's scolding more than he hated Rei's nagging. Shrugging, Len's eyes drifted towards the cup of tea Leon served him. "I didn't come here to be scolded, Leon. I'm asking a little thing. I hope this isn't much of an issue to you."

"It is an issue to me, dimwit." Leon tilted his chin higher, making his straight short hair fall right over his shoulders. Len could see the tear-shaped earring on Leon's left ear.

Len laughed mentally. Leon looked like _Howl_ from _Miyazaki_ 's animated film version of a D. W. Jones' novel. Oh, Len loved her castle series.

"I hope you've been reflecting on your actions that day you won the grand prize, my dear lil' brother. We both know that such art was out of pure luck," Leon's voice hardened a little, perhaps proving to Len that _everything_ about _art_ was a big deal to him. Hence, he was digging the past to rub salt to the wound. Though technically speaking, Leon was a man who would deal with problems by knowing what caused it in the first place. And thus, so long as Len wouldn't come back to them with his so-called _magnum opus,_ he would try to...be the big brother he never really was. "The best thing to do in order to get that _inspiration_ you're yearning for...is to get over your weird fetish, sly fox."

"What the fuck, Leon?" The younger sibling grimaced, still surprised with what his brother said just now.

"Haven't you noticed, you are attracted to things which seem extraordinarily perfect and beautiful. You like to paint the sky, _because you use to reason out that it is unchanging._ You like to paint thr garden, _because you believe that remaking the blossoming of life is so great._ And you like to paint _a girl, because she is the only girl who looks perfect to you._ And maybe because you've sworn to never paint anyone but her."

Len sighed, picking up his cup of tea from the table. "Okay, all seemed accurate – besides the last one. I don't remember any girl and any promise. Sorry."

"Ungrateful bastard! Is that how you treat your muse?" Leon heaved a sigh and lifted his cup once again to take another sip. Blowing the tiny smoke away, he gracefully closed the distance between his mouth and the cup. "Isn't _she_ the muse who–"

"She's a _reference_ , not really a muse."

"Will you do the kindness to zip your mouth and let me finish my sentence, Len Kagamine?" Leon put down his cup with a clink. This silenced Len, hearing the (probably) Leon's rude personality to take over. Somehow, that clink signaled Leon's authority in the talk. "Reference or muse, I don't care. No, she's your muse. She has always been your muse. The girl is your first love, have you forgotten?"

"Okay, from muse to first love. You don't make sense. I shouldn't have bothered coming all the way here."

"It's a pain in the butt to watch you and Mikuo's sister cooing each other in our garden, you know. When you guys first met, that sly teal boy forced me to spy with him. You've sworn to paint her when you get better in portraits," Leon flipped his hair back. The tabby cat purred and shifted on his lap, but he continued to sleep anyway. "That's why when you painted her, I thought you guys were going to marry afterwards...especially when you painted her _sensually_ –"

"It's not sensual!" yelled the younger blond, his ears flaming red.

"But it's a nude – somewhat symbolic – sort of work," Leon sneered at his brother. He enjoyed seeing Len fluster and blush. It was his belief that people lose their grace when they blush. "Nevertheless, its meaning depends on the viewer, no? That's the same case for all artworks there. But then again, when viewers interpret artworks, they are killing the artist."

Len huffed, ears still red. His cheeks were dusted with pink now, lips pressed together in a pout. It irritated him how Leon could talk as though they were really close to each other. What did he know about Len's first love when they never really spoke to each other a lot. However, Leon's words finally crossed his mind.

Did he and Miku really meet before? That would make sense, given that Mikuo used to come over in their house, but he had a hazy recollection of that all-smile dude. If they really met, why did she not recognize him? Why didn't he recognize her? Moreover, Leon said Miku was Len's first love. How did that...happen?

Well, he was certainly smitten when he met her that night, when they shared a dinner with Fukase. Though she was snobbish and pissy as shit, he found it really attractive. After all, girls were initiating moves on him and he would just go on and _flirt with flow_ –as he phrased it. It was just refreshing to find a girl loathing him at first sight. So...how did she become his first love when this was the first actual conversation they had? So far this was all he could recall.

Sighing, he shrugged and glowered at his brother. "I came here to ask what will help me paint. I don't really care about first love right now. Plus, I don't remember meeting her as a child. Just give me an advice already."


	15. Chapter 15

"So... _sir,_ you are saying that your brother hardly helped you with your problem at all?" Oliver peered closely to his customer's visage, the same customer he had not seen for, what, three days? Lately, Len Kagamine had been spending half of the days in Oliver's small pub, perhaps to kill time – or maybe, to get a good look of Miku's face. In all those days he had been gone, Oliver wondered what this flirtatious blond was up to? _Seducing women?_ That sounded plausible.

"I hope you'll shed me some light about the matter. I mean, why are we talking about your brother again?" Oliver scratched the back of his head as he leant back to his seat. It was a quiet morning, five minutes past ten, and he was here chatting with a _candidate_ regular to kill time, too. "But well, it was quite a surprise to hear that Miss Miku was an acquaintance of yours."

"Yep, that surprised me too. At first, I thought my brother was playing with me," Len looked up from what he was doing, sparing the other blond a glance worth three seconds before stooping down to continue his work. He'd been sketching for some time now, forgetting to touch the piece of strawberry cake he just ordered. It lay perfectly unappreciated in front of him. Though it was already paid, Oliver still felt uneasy about the dessert not being eaten outright. "And you know what, do you always speak like that? Feels like I'm speaking to classic book. Always polite. So gentlemanly. You make me feel so... _impure._ " Len laughed, eyes still on his handy sketchbook.

"Well, I grew up in Kingsbury. It's just how we speak," replied Oliver casually. "I'm an English after all. Hn, mind taking a bite on your cake, _sir?_ You've been leaving it out."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Len quickly picked up the fork and did as what he was told. "Tasty. Great. I'm sorry. I just can't get my hand out of something once I began working on it."

"What are you drawing, by the way?" Oliver leaned over the table, his elbows were now folded on the table. He was trying to sneak a glimpse of what Len was doing, and yet he barely pictured the image Len was trying to make. "Surely, you sketch real quick. Your hand must be light."

Len chuckled, slamming his pen on the table. He threw the sketchbook onto Oliver's face as he pulled the cake to him and devoured it. "I'm doing the commissioned art. Well, it is expected to help _them_ get back to each other, but I do it for the opposite reason." An evil sneer flashed on Len's face. "I wanted to rip them apart. He was such a wuss to betray a woman like that."

Oliver flipped the pages as his customer busied himself with the cake. The sketches were lovely, though the ballpoint sketches were a bit messy, that exactly made it wonderful. Len had drawn Miku clandestinely, most of the drawings had her drinking a cup of tea or talking to Miss Mew. There was one outstanding drawing though, the one where Miku was smiling as she stood by the glass door. She was a beautiful lady, and this drawing proved that much.

"These would look really enticing if she would stop wearing those round-framed spectacles," Oliver sighed, closing the small journal. "People usually don't notice her beauty because she keeps her glasses."

"With or without glasses, a true man will notice a woman's beauty," Len huffed proudly, his eyes glistening with an annoying sparkle. "Now, it seems like you realize her true worth. I'm warning you, boy. I knew her first."

Oliver threw the journal back to its owner, his hand fanning in front his face. "Aye, sir. She's like a sister to me–I have no ulterior motives, unlike you. But then, will you really be able to help her forget her ex? It's not like your presence– _your annoying presence_ –will magically make her move on."

Len ran his fingers through his hair, and by this time, Oliver was shielding his eyes from Len's glowing image. "Hah, of course. Expect a shotgun marriage anytime soon."

"Wow, that's very confident of you," the door dinged as a teal-haired man entered, his neat white dress shirt seemed to shine as he stepped in. "I hope you know what you're saying, Len Kagamine. Seems like Leon is right – his brother is a dimwit."

"Oi, mister. Tell Leon I am not." Len gritted his teeth. Oliver whispered that what Len just said, _shotgun marriage,_ was not even something to be proud of. This time, the blond faced the curly blond. "Wouldn't it be nice to see two beautiful beings–Miku and I–to give our genes to a wonderful–" he didn't even finish what he was saying because Mikuo hit the back of his head with his bag. Though it did not really hurt, Len still yelled in pain.

"Don't confidently announce your intention of bedding my sister. You know what, I really root for you when you're younger. Watching you and Miku play in the courtyard fills my heart with joy. Innocent love is...gold. I really don't know what accident turned you to become this grotesque."

Oliver offered his seat to Mikuo and asked him what he wanted to eat or drink. The teal-guy asked for the usual, a slice of chocolate cake and a cup of black coffee. When the blond waiter left, Mikuo beamed at the blond acquaintance.

"Now, where am I? Oh yeah, grotesque."

"That adjective doesn't suit me, sir."

Mikuo chuckled, hovering on the table to steal the small journal Len was holding. Flipping it open, he sighed. "A grotesque stalker, I see. Anyway, you've improved in portraits. Your first attempt to draw Miku was horrible, you know. I still have it in my room."

"W-what?"

"Yaay, so you don't remember it too? Why can't you shake your head a tad and try remembering your childhood."

"It doesn't matter now, Mr. Hatsune." Len glanced at the window beside him. The snow started to fall like tiny white pixies falling from the sky. It glided down slowly and gracefully, like how Miku danced when he first saw her in the uni. "I am attracted to person she is now. Moreover, I really can't recall whatever you and my brother are talking about."

Mikuo remained silent for a good half minute, seriously taking in what Len just said. He stared at his blank visage, eyes lost in the snowfall outside the shop. It looked wistful and sentimental–far from the funny, immature and perverted aura the blond established earlier. Mikuo thought that the serious expression looked beautiful on Len, and he remembered how the younger Len in his memory used to look the same. Nevertheless, these thoughts vanished at once when Mikuo began to laugh.

"Man, that's gross." Mikuo pulled out a tissue from the box in the center of the table.

"Excuse me?" Len looked at him with bewildered face.

"Are you aware that you sounded freaking cheesy there?"

Len was unable to reply when the door dinged again. Mikuo's eyes widened in joy as he watched the person to enter, while Len grunted. He was facing away from the door.

"Miku!" Mikuo called, waving his hand.

"Hey," Len heard her say. He could tell from the footfall that she was walking towards them. "Can I share a seat?"

What a cold voice.

That was the cue. Len stole his sketchbook from Mikuo as he jolted up from his seat. He didn't even glance at her nor flirt as what he was more likely to do. The blond just picked up his bag tossed on the feet of his chair. Like a cold wind, he brushed past her shoulder, and though they were wearing thick coats – it was only Mikuo who was underdressed for today's weather – he felt the electric shock at that contact. Without a word to Mikuo or Oliver at least, Len left the shop with door dinging as he bursted out of the door.

He didn't care if he would get a snow-crown on his hair later; winter never really bothered him. Stuffing his bare hands in the pockets of his jeans, Len ran as fast as he could. As the cold breeze blew on his face, he could still feel his cheeks warming.

"Yeah, I'll rip them apart."


	16. Chapter 16

_Ten days._

Len had stayed indoors for ten miraculous days without fainting. He was there, either hogging his bed or kicking canvases in his small living room, suffocating himself with the smell of sketchbooks, unused acrylic paints and empty pizza boxes. The days he spent indoors were dedicated to finish the commissioned art he'd been working for ever since that bloody evening when he first met the haughtylady with round spectacles - who turned out to be a forgotten childhood acquaintance, as how his irksome brother and his equally vexing best friend put it.

The blond artist lay above his bed, the sheets wrinkling and twisting underneath him as he stared at his plain white ceiling, wondering which was whiter: the snow or his ceiling? He didn't notice when it started to snow in the city again, maybe last week, despite his anticipation of the snowfall. After all, he didn't want to have a brown Christmas. Speaking of the season, it was quite near and he felt like spending it alone. _Please, not again. It was terribly depressing._

On his chest he held the hardbound sketchbook, his fingers gently wrapping on both sides, his thumbs ran down and up against the rough cover. He was done; the art was finally finished, though giving this to the person who paid him seemed to invoke remorse deep within the blond's chest. This shouldn't be hard, or at least he supposed this mustn't be hard - to depart with something you worked so hard for. His clear blue eyes glistened, who knew if it was because he wanted to cry; but perhaps he wanted to tear up, for he had been mumbling to himself _'history repeats itself'_ for over an hour now. He could get emotional when this part of the commission comes.

Separation anxiety? - oh yes, an artist like Len does feel it. He would always feel it whenever he was forced to give away his works, say for example his paintings back in their home. His mother, whenever their relatives whose existence was never mentioned to him, would show off her children's artworks to them. The unknown relatives, on the other hand, would shower the siblings with their praises and sickly sweet compliments that would eventually turn to: _'hey, can I take it home with me, you know, as a remembrance?'_. It was during these moments when Len wondered if ever his mother actually knew how to refuse or at least just mutter a blunt _no_ like she usually would when he'd ask to get a new toy.

The artist remained on his bed, but this time he rolled over to lie on his stomach, while stretching a hand to put the sketchbook on his bedside table. Due to his extreme laziness, however, it missed the table and fell on the carpeted ground - the one he didn't bother to change last season - and tumbled open. Len groaned, stared and blinked, yet didn't budge an inch to pick the poor book up. In fact, his cheeks just reddened all the while staring at the illustration in display.

Miku was laughing, her hand caught in her hair as she tried to put it up in a ponytail. Her glasses were left on the table beside her mug of hot choco, which was set next to a slice of cake. _The usual,_ if he remembered it correctly. She would tell Oliver _'the usual'_ and the blond server would give him the same set of dessert. The pale colors he used smudged all over the illustration, some had been intentionally painted beyond the lines. Her hair had a lighter shade of teal in the drawing - it seemed to be dyed all in pastel, honestly - which made the whole thing dreamy. Len liked how pink her nose, cheeks and ears when he saw her that day, so he mentally noted not to miss such detail once he colored his sketch. This was his favorite, and one could see just how passionate he was in making this simple watercolor painting.

"I see. Landfill as always." Rei came barging in, his sigh - loud and forced - announced his arrival. The studio director kicked Len's door open before grabbing the blond by his leg and yanking him off the bed. The blond fell on the ground with a thud. "Do you know just how bloody foul your living room smell? Your place is like a real dumpster, Len. Get a maid or get a wife ASAP. Please." There, he said it again.

"If you come here to get the art, it's over there. On the ground," mumbled the blond, kicking Rei's hand off from his ankles. "Just give it to _ex boyfriend_ and ask for my dough."

"Dough, uh-huh. But if I were you, I'd dress and tidy up myself 'coz Fukase's comin' over with missy," Rei winked and whistled. He walked over the opposite side and crouched to pick up the sketchbook, eyes wide and mouth gawking when he saw the same illustration Len was blushing for. "Wow, good stuff. She's really pretty without the eyeglasses, eh." He didn't say another word to compliment Len; Rei instantly knew that the blond made this with his blood and sweat. And that compliments from him were nothing to Len. The usual thing.

"Come over for all I care. She's gonna make babies with _ex-ie boyf-ie_ later on once they make up. Does it matter to me? No, not at all." Len ignored Rei as he slumped back on his bed, face down. "Okay, the job is done. Piss off, Rei. Leave this virgin alone."

The studio director just rolled his eyes and gave the blond one last kick on the ass - which make Len scream loud enough - before running out of the dumpster-like flat. Perhaps he'd give Fukase a ring to advise him that he shouldn't bring the girl with him, and just plainly invite Len on a dinner.

Meanwhile, the artist lay still on his bed, a hand was massaging his butt. It hurt to be kicked like that, however, what hurt the most wasn't his self-proclaimed perfect ass. It was his _pride_. Didn't he say he'd rip _them_ apart? He ought to make the art trashy and ugly and detestable, because he knew it wouldn't be appreciated if it was like that. And yet when he started to glide the brush across the paper, when he began to ink the lines, and when he recalled the exact image of the drawings... Len knew he'd break his oath. Miku happened to be his finest portrait model.

He drew her in various ways; each illustration pictured a different side of her. There was an impatient Miku who was standing on the school gates, waiting for her students to get in. He also painted a sleeping Miku whose head rested next to the window of Oliver's shop. He also saw the other side her, the friendly one, when she helped a lost girl in finding Nemo - no, her mother. The other pages had Miku playing the piano, riding the tram, yelling at Oliver, drinking a cuppa with Mew... However, his best work - yes, not the favorite one - was put at the last page. It was the first time he met her, if his memory didn't fail him, and it was his last ace to awaken a feeling long lost to her. If things would go according to plan, if the memories would come back swarming to her like it did to him, Len would likely _rip them apart._

Rip them apart, eh? The plan backfired, badly. He gripped his sheets and buried his nails on them, though he really wished he was burying them on Miku's skin instead, and yelled against the pillow out of frustration. If only he could keep the sketchbook, then he could stop the history repeating itself. Just like before, he ended up giving away an art that could steal a person's heart.

The blond rolled over again, his head tilted up to face the ceiling. Was it a good move, or was it not, to let the same man win over Miku's heart through Len's arts, the second time around? He let a sigh to part his lips, just to relieve himself a little, and asked himself when would the day come for the princess to like the fairy godfather instead?


End file.
